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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'-' 


BETH  NORVELL 


Bv  MR.  PARRISH 

WHEN  WILDERNESS  WAS  KING.  A  Tale  of  the  Illinois 
Country.  Illustrated  by  the  Kinneys. 

MY  LADY  OF  THE  NORTH.  The  Love  Story  of  a  Gray- 
Jacket.  Illustrated  by  E.  M.  Ashe. 

A  SWORD  OF  THE  OLD  FRONTIER.    A  Romance  of  the 

Time  of  Pontiac's  Conspiracy.    Illustrated  by  F.  C. 

Yohn. 
BOB    HAMPTON  OF    PLACER.     Illustrated  by  Arthur  I. 

Keller. 
BETH  NORVELL.    A  Romance  of  the  West.    Illustrated 

by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

Each  $1.50 

HISTORIC  ILLINOIS.  The  Romance  of  the  Earlier  Days. 
With  Map  and  Fifty  Illustrations.  Price  $2.50  net. 

THE  GREAT  PLAINS.  The  Romance  of  Western  Amer 
ican  Exploration,  Warfare,  and  Settlement,  1527-1870. 
With  numerous  illustrations.  Price  $1.75  net. 

A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co.,  CHICAGO 


THE  WOMAN  NEVER  CHANGED  HER  POSTURE,  NEVER  SEEMED  TO 
REALIZE  THE  APPROACH  OF  DAWN  ;  BUT  WINSTON  ROUSED  UP, 
LIFTING  HIS  HEAD  TO  GAZE  WEARILY  FORWARD. 

[Page  316] 


BETH  NORVELL 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  WEST 


BY 


RANDALL  PARRISH 

AUTHOR  OF  "WHEN  WILDERNESS  WAS  KING,"  "  MY  LADY  OF  THE 
NORTH,"  "  BOB  HAMPTON  OF  PLACER,"  ETC. 


WITH   FRONTISPIECE   IN  COLOR  BY 

N.  C.  WYETH 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1907 


COPYRIGHT 
A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co. 

1907 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 

All  Rights  Reserved 
Published  September  21,  1907 


R.  R.  DONNELLEY  &  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


P5  I 

3551 


CONTENTS 


9 
18 

34 


61 

76 


I     A  CHANCE  MEETING 

II  OUT  WITH  A  ROAD  COMPANY 

III  A  BREAKING  OF  ICE 

IV  A  NEW  DEAL  OF  THE  CARDS 

V     IN  OPEN  REBELLION 

VI  THE  "LITTLE  YANKEE"  MINE    .     .     . 

VII     A  DISMISSAL 92 

VIII     "HE  MEANS  FIGHT" 106 

IX  THE  FORCE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES    ....  122 

X     A  NEW  ALLIANCE 134 

XI     HALF-CONFIDENCES 147 

XII     THE  COVER  OF  DARKNESS        154 

XIII  Two  WOMEN        165 

XIV  UNDERGROUND 175 

XV     THE  PROOF  OF  CRIME 182 

XVI     A  RETURN  TO  THE  DAY 191 

XVII     A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR 199 

XVIII     THE  CONFESSION         211 

XIX     THE  POINT  OF  VIEW 224 

XX     THE  GAME  OF  FOILS 233 

XXI     UNDER  ARREST 241 

XXII  THE  INTERVENTION  OF  SWANSON       .     .     .  250 

XXIII     A  NEW  VOLUNTEER 261 

W 


1763810 


CONTENTS— CONTINUE-D 

CHAPTER 

XXIV  AN  AVOWAL  OF  LOVE  .     . 

XXV  THE  PROOF  OF  LOVE 

XXVI  BENEATH  THE  DARKNESS       .     . 

XXVII  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME        .     .     . 

XXVIII  ACROSS  THE  DESERT  TO  THE  END 

XXIX  THE  SUMMIT  OF  SUCCESS       .     .     . 

XXX  THE  MISSION  OF  A  LETTER 


PAGE 
27I 

28l 
29O 
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3I2 
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332 


[vi] 


BETH  NORVELL 


BETH  NORVELL 

A  TALE  OF  THE  WEST 


CHAPTER  I 

A  CHANCE  MEETING 

THERE  were  nine  altogether  in  the  party  regis 
tering.  This  number  included  the  manager, 
who,  both  on  and  offthe  stage,  quite  successfully 
impersonated  the  villain  —  a  rather  heavy-jawed,  mid 
dle-aged  fellow,  of  foreign  appearance,  with  coarse, 
gruff  voice;  three  representatives  of  the  gentler  sex;  a 
child  of  eight,  exact  species  unknown,  wrapped  up  like 
a  mummy ;  and  four  males.  Beyond  doubt  the  most 
notable  member  of  the  troupe  was  the  comedian  "  star," 
Mr.  T.  Macready  Lane,  whose  well-known  cognomen 
must  even  now  awaken  happy  histrionic  memories 
throughout  the  western  circuit.  The  long  night's  ride 
from  their  previous  stand,  involving  as  it  did  two 
changes  of  trains,  had  proven  exceedingly  wearisome ; 
and  the  young  woman  in  the  rather  natty  blue  toque, 
the  collar  of  her  long  gray  coat  turned  up  in  partial 
concealment  of  her  face,  was  so  utterly  fatigued  that 
she  refused  to  wait  for  a  belated  breakfast,  and  insisted 
upon  being  at  once  directed  to  her  room.  There  was  a 
substantial  bolt  decorating  the  inside  of  the  door,  but, 

[9] 


BETH    NORVELL 

rendered  careless  by  sheer  exhaustion  of  both  mind 
and  body,  she  forgot  everything  except  her  desire  for 
immediate  rest,  dropped  her  wraps  upon  the  only  chair 
visible,  and  flung  herself,  fully  dressed,  upon  the  bed. 
Her  cheek  had  barely  pressed  the  hard  pillow  before 
she  was  sleeping  like  a  tired  child. 

It  must  have  been  an  hour  later  when  Winston 
drove  in  from  Flat  Rock,  shook  the  powdery  snow 
from  off  his  long  fur  overcoat,  his  cheeks  still  tingling 
from  the  sharp  wind,  and,  with  fingers  yet  stiffened 
by  cold,  wrote  his  name  carelessly  across  the  lower  line 
of  the  dilapidated  hotel  register. 

"  Can  you  let  me  have  the  same  room,  Tom  ? "  he 
questioned  familiarly  of  the  man  ornamenting  the  high 
stool  behind  the  desk. 

The  latter,  busy  with  some  figures,  nodded  carelessly, 
and  the  last  arrival  promptly  picked  up  his  valise  from 
the  floor  and  began  climbing  the  stairs,  whistling  softly. 
He  was  a  long-limbed,  broad-chested  young  fellow, 
with  clean-shaven  face,  and  a  pair  of  dark-gray  eyes 
that  looked  straight  ahead  of  him ;  and  he  ran  up  the 
somewhat  steep  steps  as  though  finding  such  exercise 
a  pleasure.  Rounding  the  upper  railing,  he  stopped 
abruptly  before  Number  Twenty-seven,  flung  open 
the  door,  took  a  single  step  within,  and  came  to  a  sud 
den  pause,  his  careless  whistling  suspended  in  breath 
less  surprise.  With  that  single  glance  the  complete 
picture  became  indelibly  photographed  upon  his  mem 
ory, —  the  narrow,  sparsely  furnished  room  with  roughly 
plastered  walls;  the  small,  cheap  mirror;  the  faded- 
green  window  curtain,  torn  half  in  two;  the  sheet-iron 

[.o] 


A    CHANCE     MEETING 

wash-stand ;  the  wooden  chair,  across  which  rested  the 
gray  coat  with  the  blue  toque  on  top ;  and  the  single 
cot  bed  bearing  its  unconscious  occupant. 

Somehow  as  he  gazed,  his  earliest  conscious  emotion 
was  that  of  sympathy  —  it  all  appeared  so  unspeakably 
pathetic,  so  homesick,  so  dismally  forlorn  and  barren. 
Then  that  half-upturned  face  riveted  his  attention  and 
seemed  to  awaken  a  vague,  dreamy  memory  he  found 
himself  unable  to  localize ;  it  reminded  him  of  some 
other  face  he  had  known,  tantalizing  from  its  dim 
indistinctness.  Then  this  earlier  impression  slightly 
faded  away,  and  he  merely  beheld  her  alone,  a  perfect 
stranger  appropriating  little  by  little  her  few  claims  to 
womanly  beauty.  There  was  no  certain  guessing  at 
her  age  as  she  lay  thus,  one  hand  pressed  beneath  her 
cheek,  her  eyes  closed,  the  long,  dark  lashes  clearly 
outlined  against  the  white  flesh,  her  bosom  rising  and 
falling  with  the  steady  breathing  of  absolute  exhaustion. 
She  appeared  so  extremely  tired,  discouraged,  unhappy, 
that  the  young  man  involuntarily  closed  his  teeth  tightly, 
as  though  some  wrong  had  been  personally  done  to 
himself.  He  marked  the  dense  blackness  of  her  heavy 
mass  of  hair ;  the  perfect  clearness  of  her  skin ;  the 
shapeliness  of  the  slender,  outstretched  figure;  the 
narrow  boot,  with  its  high-arched  instep,  peeping  shyly 
beneath  the  blue  skirt ;  the  something  rarely  interest 
ing,  yet  which  scarcely  made  for  beauty,  revealed 
unconsciously  in  the  upturned  face  with  its  rounded 
chin  and  parted  lips. 

There  was  no  distinct  regularity  of  features,  but 
there  was  unquestionably  character,  such  character  as 


BETH     NORVELL 

we  recognize  vaguely  in  a  sculptured  face,  lacking  that 
life-like  expression  which  the  opened  eyes  alone  are 
capable  of  rendering.  All  this  swept  across  his  mind 
in  that  instant  during  which  he  remained  irresolute 
from  surprise.  Yet  Winston  was  by  nature  a  gentle 
man  ;  almost  before  he  had  grasped  the  full  significance 
of  it  all  he  stepped  silently  backward,  and  gently 
closed  the  door.  For  an  uncertain  moment  he 
remained  there  staring  blankly  at  the  wood,  that  haunt 
ing  memory  once  again  mocking  every  vain  attempt 
to  associate  this  girl-face  with  some  other  he  had  known 
before.  Finally,  leaving  valise  and  overcoat  lying  in 
the  hall,  he  retraced  his  way  slowly  down  the  stairs. 

"Tom,"  and  the  young  man  leaned  against  the 
rough  counter,  his  voice  grown  graver,  "  there  chances 
to  be  a  woman  at  present  occupying  that  room  you 
just  assigned  me." 

"No!  Is  that  so?"  and  the  clerk  swung  easily  down 
from  his  high  stool,  drawing  the  register  toward  him. 
"  Must  be  one  of  the  troupe,  then.  Let 's  see  —  Num 
ber  Twenty-seven,  was  n't  it  ?  Twenty-seven  —  oh,  yes, 
here  it  is.  That 's  a  fact,"  and  his  finger  slowly  traced 
the  line  as  he  spelled  out  the  name,  tc<  Miss  Beth  Nor- 
vell.'  Oh,  I  remember  her  now —  black  hair,  and  a 
long  gray  coat;  best  looker  among  'em.  Manager 
said  she  'd  have  to  be  given  a  room  all  to  herself;  but 
I  clean  forgot  I  assigned  her  to  Twenty-seven.  Make 
much  of  a  row  ?  " 

The  other  shook  his  head,  bending  down  so  as  to 
read  the  name  with  his  own  eyes.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  least  familiar  about  the  sound  of  it,  and  he  became 

[n] 


A    CHANCE    MEETING 

faintly  conscious  of  an  undefined  feeling  of  disappoint 
ment.  Still,  if  she  was  upon  the  stage,  the  name  quite 
probably  was  an  assumed  one ;  the  very  utterance  of  it 
left  that  impression.  He  walked  over  toward  the  cigar 
stand  and  picked  out  a  weed,  thinking  gravely  while 
he  held  a  flaming  match  to  the  tip.  Somehow  he  was 
not  altogether  greatly  pleased  with  this  information; 
he  should  have  preferred  to  discover  her  to  be  some 
one  else.  He  glanced  at  the  clerk  through  the  slight 
haze  of  blue  smoke,  his  increasing  curiosity  finding 
reluctant  utterance. 

"What  troupe  is  it?"  he  questioned  with  seeming 
carelessness. 

"'Heart  of  the  World,'"  answered  Tom  with  some 
considerable  increase  of  enthusiasm.  "A  dandy  play, 
and  a  blamed  good  company,  they  tell  me.  Got  some 
fine  press  notices  anyhow,  an'  a  carload  o'  scenery. 
Played  in  Denver  a  whole  month ;  and  it  costs  a  dol 
lar  and  a  half  to  buy  a  decent  seat  even  in  this  measly 
town,  so  you  can  bet  it  ain't  no  slouch  of  a  show. 
House  two-thirds  sold  out  in  advance,  but  I  know 
where  I  can  get  you  some  good  seats  for  just  a  little 
extra.  Lane  is  the  star.  You  've  heard  of  Lane, 
have  n't  you?  Funniest  fellow  you  ever  saw;  makes 
you  laugh  just  to  look  at  him.  And  this  —  this  Miss 
Norvell,  why  she  's  the  leadin'  lady,  and  the  travellin' 
men  tell  me  she  's  simply  immense.  There's  one  of 
their  show  bills  hanging  over  there  back  of  the  stove." 

Winston  sauntered  across  to  the  indicated  red  and 
yellow  abomination,  and  dumbly  stood  staring  at  it 
through  the  blue  rings  of  his  cigar.  It  represented  a 

C»J] 


BETH    NORVELL 

most  thrilling  stage  picture,  while  underneath,  and  in 
type  scarcely  a  shade  less  pronounced  than  that  devoted 
to  the  eminent  comedian  T.  Macready  Lane,  appeared 
the  announcement  of  the  great  emotional  actress,  Miss 
Beth  Norvell,  together  with  several  quite  flattering 
Western  press  notices.  The  young  man  read  these 
slowly,  wondering  why  they  should  particularly  interest 
him,  and  on  a  sudden  his  rather  grave  face  brightened 
into  a  smile,  a  whimsical  thought  flashing  into  his  mind. 

"  By  Jove,  why  not  ? "  he  muttered,  as  if  arguing 
the  matter  out  with  himself.  "The  report  has  gone 
East,  and  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  accomplished  in 
Flat  Rock  for  at  least  a  month.  This  snow  will  have 
to  melt  away  before  they  can  hope  to  put  any  miners 
to  work,  and  in  the  meanwhile  I  might  just  as  well  be 
laying  up  experiences  on  the  road  as  wasting  my  sub 
stance  in  riotous  living  at  Denver.  It  ought  to  prove 
a  great  lark,  and  I  Ve  always  had  ambition  to  have  a 
try  at  something  of  the  kind.  Well,  here  's  my  chance ; 
and  besides,  I  can't  help  believing  that  that  girl  might 
prove  interesting;  her  face  is,  anyhow." 

He  walked  back  to  where  Tom  still  hung  idly  over 
the  cigar  case. 

"Who  is  running  this  show  outfit?" 

"That  big  fellow  writing  at  the  table.  His  name  's 
Albrecht,"  suspiciously.  "  But  see  here,  I  tell  you 
there  ain't  any  use  of  your  hittin'  him  for  f  comps '; 
he  's  tighter  than  a  drum." 

" c  Comps '  ?  Oh,  ye  of  little  faith  !  "  exclaimed  Win 
ston  genially.  "  It  is  n't  '  comps '  I  'm  after,  Tommy, 
it's  a  job." 


A    CHANCE    MEETING 

Albrecht  looked  up  from  his  writing,  scowling  some 
what  under  his  heavily  thatched  brows,  and  revealing 
a  coarse  face,  with  little  glinting  eyes  filled  with  low 
cunning.  At  that  first  glance  Winston  instinctively 
disliked  the  fellow ;  yet  he  put  his  case  in  a  few  brief 
sentences  of  explanation,  and,  as  the  other  listened,  the 
managerial  frown  slightly  relaxed. 

"  Actor  ? "  he  questioned  laconically,  when  the 
younger  man  paused,  his  glance  wandering  apprecia 
tively  over  the  sturdy,  erect  figure. 

"Well,  hardly  that;  at  least,  merely  in  an  amateur 
way,"  and  the  applicant  laughed  lightly.  "You  see,  I 
imagined  you  might  possibly  make  use  of  me  in  some 
minor  capacity  until  I  learn  more  about  the  business. 
I  don't  care  very  much  regarding  pay,  but  I  desire  to 
get  a  taste  of  the  life." 

"  Oxactly,  mein  frient."  And  the  worthy  Albrecht 
became  almost  briskly  cordial  in  manner.  Perhaps 
here  was  an  "  angel "  waiting  to  be  plucked  in  the  holy 
name  of  art ;  at  least,  he  appeared  well  dressed,  looked 
intellectually  promising,  and  expressed  himself  as 
totally  indifferent  regarding  salary.  Such  visitors  were 
indeed  few  and  far  between,  and  the  astute  manager 
sufficiently  understood  his  business  to  permit  his 
heavy  features  to  relax  into  a  hearty,  welcoming 
smile.  "Oxactly,  young  man.  Sit  down,  und  I  vill 
see  yoost  vat  vos  pest  for  us  both.  You  vould  be  an 
actor ;  you  haf  the  ambition.  Ah !  I  see  it  in  your 
eyes,  and  it  gif  me  great  bleasure.  But,  young  man, 
it  vos  unfortunate  dot  I  haf  not  mooch  just  now  to  gif 
you,  yet  the  vay  vill  open  if  you  only  stays  mit  me. 


BETH    NORVELL 

Sure;  yaw,  I,  Samuel  Albrecht,  vill  make  of  you  a 
great  actor.  I  can  see  dot  in  your  face,  und  for  dot 
reason  I  vill  now  gif  you  the  chance.  You  begin  at 
the  pottom,  but  not  for  long;  all  I  vants  now  vos  a 
utility  man  —  some  one  to  take  small  barts,  understudy, 
und  be  ready  to  help  out  mit  der  scenery  und  der  trunks. 
I  could  not  bay  moch  monies  for  dot,"  and  he  spread 
his  beringed  hands  deprecatingly,  "but  it  vos  only  der 
first  step  on  der  ladder  of  fame.  Every  day  I  teach 
you  de  great  art  of  de  actor.  You  come  with  me  dot 
way,  mein  frient? " 

"  Certainly  ;  that  will  be  perfectly  satisfactory." 

"Ah,"  delightedly,  "you  vos  a  goot  poy,  villin'  to 
learn,  I  see.  Next  season,  who  knows,  you  might  be 
leading  man  if  you  vork  hardt.  I  bay  you  now  after 
one  veek's  trial,  when  I  know  petter  vot  you  are  vort, 
hey?" 

Winston  carelessly  nodded  his  acceptance  of  these 
rather  indefinite  terms,  his  hands  thrust  into  his  pock 
ets,  his  gray  eyes  smiling  their  appreciation  of  the  situ 
ation.  Albrecht  was  deliberately  looking  him  over,  as 
he  might  a  horse  he  had  just  purchased. 

"You  are  kinder  slim  to  look  at,"  he  confessed  at 
last,  thoughtfully.  "Are  you  bretty  strong?" 

The  younger  man  silently  held  forth  his  right  arm 
to  the  inspection  of  the  other,  who  fingered  the  iron 
rigidity  of  muscle  under  the  cloth  with  evident  respect. 

"  God  of  Yacob  !  "  the  manager  muttered  in  uncon 
cealed  surprise,  "  it  is  vonderful,  and  you  such  a  slen 
der  young  man  to  look  at.  I  vos  most  afraidt  you 
could  not  do  mein  vork,  but  it  is  all  right.  You  vill  eat 


A    CHANCE    MEETING 

mit  us  at  the  long  table,"  he  waved  his  hand  indefinitely 
toward  the  dining-room,  "at  12:30,  and  then  I  valk 
mit  you  over  py  der  Obera  House,  und  show  you 
vat  der  is  to  be  done  mit  dot  scenery  und  dem  trunks. 
Mein  Gott !  it  vos  vonderful  dot  muscles  vot  you  haf 
got  —  you  vould  make  a  great  Davy  Crockett  ven  I 
learns  you  de  business,  mein  frient." 

The  manager's  appreciation  of  his  new  acquisition 
was  so  clearly  evident  that  Winston  felt  compelled  to 
notice  it. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  you  appear  so  well  satisfied,"  he  said, 
rising  to  his  feet. 

"  Satisfied  !  Mein  Gott,"  and  the  overjoyed  Albrecht 
cordially  clasped  the  hand  of  his  new  recruit.  "It  vos 
a  great  season  of  luck  for  me,  mein  frient.  Dot 
Meess  Norvell,  she  makes  me  mooch  monies  vile  I 
shows  her  how  to  be  an  actress,  —  oh,  it  vos  yoost 
beautiful  to  see  her  act,  —  und  now  you  comes  mit  me 
also,  und  cares  nottings  for  vot  I  bay  you,  und  I  can 
see  you  haf  der  actor  genius.  Mein  Gott !  it  vos  too 
goot  to  be  true." 

Winston  broke  away  gladly,  and  drifted  back 
toward  the  cigar  stand,  where  the  mystified  Tommy 
yet  stood  staring  at  him. 

"  Well,  did  you  get  it?  "  the  latter  questioned,  grin 
ning. 

"Thomas,"  returned  the  other  loftily.  "You  can 
hand  me  out  another  cigar,  and  I  will  thank  you  not 
to  be  quite  so  familiar  in  the  future.  I  am  now  gen 
eral  utility  man  with  the  c  Heart  of  the  World '  com 
pany,  and  consequently  entitled  to  greater  respect." 

['7] 


CHAPTER  II 

OUT  WITH  A  ROAD  COMPANY 

MISS  NORVELL  failed  to  appear  at  the  noon 
meal,  though  Winston  met  the  other  members  of 
the  company.  He  found  them  genial  enough, 
even  somewhat  boisterous,  with  the  single  exception  of 
Mr.  Lane,  who  maintained  a  dignified  and  rather  gloomy 
silence,  such  as  became  one  of  his  recognized  profes 
sional  standing,  after  having  favored  the  newcomer  with 
a  long,  impertinent  stare,  apparently  expressing  disap 
proval.  The  manager  was  outwardly  in  most  excellent 
humor,  narrating  several  stories,  at' which  all,  excepting 
the  reserved  comedian,  laughed  quite  heartily.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  repast,  Albrecht  condescended  to 
purchase  his  new  recruit  a  cigar,  and  then  walked  beside 
him  toward  the  Opera  House,  where  the  necessary  in 
structions  in  new  duties  promptly  began.  If  Winston 
had  previously  imagined  his  earlier  steps  toward  his 
trionic  honors  were  destined  to  be  easy  ones,  he  was 
very  soon  undeceived  under  the  guidance  of  the  en 
thusiastic  manager.  It  proved  a  strenuous  afternoon, 
yet  the  young  fellow  had  the  right  stuff  in  him  to 
make  good,  that  stubborn  pride  which  never  sur 
renders  before  difficulties ;  he  shut  his  teeth,  rolled  up 
his  shirt-sleeves,  and  went  earnestly  to  work. 

It    was    a    small,    cheaply    built    theatre,    having 
restricted  stage  space,  while  a  perfect  riff-raff  of  trunks 

[18] 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD     COMPANY 

and  detached  pieces  of  canvas  scenery  littered  the 
wings.  At  first  sight  it  appeared  a  confused  medley  of 
odds  and  ends,  utterly  impossible  to  bring  into  any  con 
formity  to  order,  but  Albrecht  recognized  each  separate 
piece  of  luggage,  every  detached  section  of  canvas, 
recalling  exactly  where  it  properly  belonged  during  the 
coming  performance.  For  more  than  an  hour  he 
pranced  about  the  dirty  stage,  shouting  minute  direc 
tions,  and  giving  due  emphasis  to  them  by  growling 
German  oaths ;  while  Winston,  aided  by  two  local 
assistants,  bore  trunks  into  the  various  dressing-rooms, 
hung  drop  curtains  in  designated  positions,  placed  set 
pieces  conveniently  at  hand,  and  arranged  the  various 
required  properties  where  they  could  not  possibly  be 
overlooked  during  the  rush  of  the  evening's  perform 
ance.  Thus,  little  by  little,  order  was  evolved  from 
chaos,  and  the  astute  manager  chuckled  happily  to  him 
self  in  quick  appreciation  of  the  unusual  rapidity  with 
which  the  newly  engaged  utility  man  grasped  the  situa 
tion  and  mastered  the  confusing  details.  Assuredly 
he  had  discovered  a  veritable  jewel  in  this  fresh  recruit. 
At  last,  the  affairs  of  principal  importance  having  been 
attended  to,  Albrecht  left  some  final  instructions,  and 
departed  for  the  hotel,  feeling  serenely  confident  that 
this  young  man  would  carry  out  his  orders  to  the  letter. 
And  Winston  did.  He  was  of  that  determined 
nature  which  performs  thoroughly  any  work  once  delib 
erately  undertaken ;  and,  although  the  merest  idle 
whim  had  originally  brought  him  to  this  position  of 
utility  man  in  the  "Heart  of  the  World"  company, 
he  was  already  beginning  to  experience  a  slight  degree 

[19] 


BETH    NORVELL 

of  interest  in  the  success  of  the  coming  show,  and  to 
feel  a  faint  esprit  de  corps,  which  commanded  his -best 
efforts.  Indeed,  his  temporary  devotion  to  the  prep 
aration  of  the  stage  proved  sufficiently  strong  to 
obscure  partially  for  the  time  being  all  recollection  of 
that  first  incentive  which  had  suggested  his  taking  such 
a  step  —  the  young  lady  discovered  asleep  in  Number 
Twenty-seven.  The  remembrance  of  her  scarcely 
recurred  to  him  all  through  the  afternoon,  yet  it 
finally  returned  in  overwhelming  rush  when,  in  the 
course  of  his  arduous  labors,  he  raised  up  a  small 
leather  trunk  and  discovered  her  name  painted  plainly 
upon  the  end  of  it.  The  chalk  mark  designating  where 
it  belonged  read  "  Dressing-room  No.  2,"  and,  instead 
of  rolling  it  roughly  in  that  direction,  as  he  had  rolled 
numerous  others,  the  new  utility  man  lifted  it  carefully 
upon  his  shoulder  and  deposited  it  gently  against  the 
farther  wall.  He  glanced  with  curiosity  about  the 
restricted  apartment  to  which  Miss  Beth  Norvell  had 
been  assigned.  It  appeared  the  merest  hole  of  a 
place,  narrow  and  ill-ventilated,  the  side  walls  and  ceil 
ing  composed  of  rough  lumber,  and  it  was  evidently 
designed  to  be  lit  at  night  by  a  single  gas  jet,  inclosed 
within  a  wire  netting.  This  apartment  contained 
merely  a  single  rude  chair,  of  the  kitchen  variety,  and 
an  exceedingly  small  mirror  cracked  across  one  corner 
and  badly  fly-specked.  Numerous  rusty  spikes,  in 
tended  to  hold  articles  of  discarded  clothing,  decorated 
both  side  walls  and  the  back  of  the  door.  It  was 
dismally  bare,  and  above  all,  it  was  abominably  dirty, 
the  dust  lying  thick  everywhere,  the  floor  apparently 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

unswept  for  weeks.  With  an  exclamation  of  disgust 
Winston  hunted  up  broom  and  dust-rag,  and  gave  the 
gloomy  place  such  a  cleansing  as  it  probably  had  not 
enjoyed  since  the  house  was  originally  erected.  At 
the  end  of  these  arduous  labors  he  looked  the  scene 
over  critically,  the  honest  perspiration  streaming  down 
his  face,  glancing,  with  some  newly  awakened  curi 
osity,  into  the  surrounding  dressing-rooms.  They 
were  equally  filthy  and  unfit  for  occupancy,  yet  he  did 
not  feel  called  upon  to  invade  them  with  his  cleansing 
broom.  By  four  o'clock  everything  was  in  proper 
position,  the  stage  set  in  perfect  order  for  the  opening 
act,  and  Winston  returned  with  his  report  to  the  hotel, 
and  to  the  glowing  Albrecht. 

Miss  Norvell  joined  the  company  at  the  supper 
table,  sitting  between  the  manager  and  Mr.  T.  Mac- 
ready  Lane,  although  Winston  was  quick  to  observe 
that  she  gave  slight  attention  to  either,  except  when 
addressed  directly.  She  met  the  others  present  with 
all  necessary  cordiality  and  good-fellowship,  yet  there 
appeared  a  certain  undefined  reserve  about  her  manner 
which  led  to  an  immediate  hush  in  the  rather  free  con 
versation  of  what  Albrecht  was  pleased  to  term  the 
"  training  table,"  and  when  the  murmur  of  voices  was 
resumed  after  her  entrance,  a  somewhat  better  choice 
of  subjects  became  immediately  noticeable.  Without 
so  much  as  either  word  or  look,  the  silent  influence  of 
the  actress  was  plainly  for  refinement,  while  her  mere 
presence  at  the  table  gave  a  new  tone  to  Bohemianism. 
Winston,  swiftly  realizing  this,  began  observing  the 
lady  with  a  curiosity  which  rapidly  developed  into 


BETH    NORVELL 

deeper  interest.  He  became  more  and  more  attracted 
by  her  unique  personality,  which  persistently  appealed  to 
his  aroused  imagination,  even  while  there  continued 
to  haunt  him  a  dim  tantalizing  remembrance  he  was 
unable  wholly  to  master.  He  assuredly  had  never 
either  seen  or  heard  of  this  young  woman  before,  yet 
she  constantly  reminded  him  of  the  past.  Her  eyes, 
the  peculiar  contour  of  her  face,  the  rather  odd  trick 
she  had  of  shaking  back  the  straying  tresses  of  her  dark, 
glossy  hair,  and,  above  all,  that  quick  smile  with  which 
she  greeted  any  flash  of  humor,  and  which  produced  a 
fascinating  dimple  in  her  cheek,  all  served  to  puzzle  and 
stimulate  him ;  while  admiration  of  her  so  apparent 
womanliness  began  as  instantly  to  replace  the  vague 
curiosity  he  had  felt  toward  her  as  an  actress.  She 
was  different  from  what  he  had  imagined,  with  abso 
lutely  nothing  to  suggest  the  glare  and  glitter  of  the 
footlights.  Until  this  time  he  had  scarcely  been  con 
scious  that  she  possessed  any  special  claim  to  beauty; 
yet  now,  her  face,  illumined  by  those  dark  eyes  filled 
with  quick  intelligence,  became  most  decidedly  attrac 
tive,  peculiarly  lovable  and  womanly.  Besides,  she 
evidently  possessed  a  rare  taste  in  dress,  which  met 
with  his  masculine  approval.  Much  of  this,  it  is  true, 
he  reasoned  out  later  and  slowly,  for  during  that  first 
meal  only  two  circumstances  impressed  him  clearly  — 
the  depth  of  feeling  glowing  within  those  wonderfully 
revealing  eyes,  and  her  complete  ignoring  of  his  pres 
ence.  If  she  recognized  any  addition  to  their  number, 
there  was  not  the  slightest  sign  given.  Once  their 
eyes  met  by  merest  accident ;  but  hers  apparently  saw 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

nothing,  and  Winston  returned  to  his  disagreeable 
labors  at  the  Opera  House,  nursing  a  feeling  akin  to 
disappointment. 

Concealed  within  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  wings, 
he  stood  entranced  that  night  watching  her  depict  the 
character  of  a  wife  whose  previous  happy  life  had  been 
irretrievably  ruined  by  deceit;  and  the  force,  the  quiet 
originality  of  her  depiction,  together  with  its  marvellous 
clearness  of  detail  and  its  intense  realism,  held  him 
captive.  The  plot  of  the  play  was  ugly,  melodramatic, 
and  entirely  untrue  to  nature;  against  it  Winston's 
cultivated  taste  instantly  revolted;  yet  this  woman 
interpreted  her  own  part  with  the  rare  instinct  of  a  true 
artist,  picturing  to  the  very  life  the  particular  character 
intrusted  to  her,  and  holding  the  house  to  a  breathless 
realization  of  what  real  artistic  portrayal  meant.  In 
voice,  manner,  action,  in  each  minute  detail  of  face  and 
figure,  she  was  truly  the  very  woman  she  represented. 
It  was  an  art  so  fine  as  to  make  the  auditors  forget 
the  artist,  forget  even  themselves.  Her  perfect  work 
manship,  clear-cut,  rounded,  complete,  stood  forth  like 
a  delicate  cameo  beside  the  rude  buffoonery  of  T.  Mac- 
ready  Lane,  the  coarse  villany  of  Albrccht,  and  the  stiff 
mannerisms  of  the  remainder  of  the  cast.  They  were 
automatons  as  compared  with  a  figure  instinct  with  life, 
animated  by  intelligence.  She  seemed  to  redeem  the 
common  clay  of  the  coarse,  unnatural  story,  and  give 
to  it  some  vital  excuse  for  existence;  the  howls  of 
laughter  greeting  the  cheap  wit  of  the  comedian  changed 
to  a  sudden  hush  of  expectancy  at  her  mere  entrance 
upon  the  stage,  while  her  slightest  word,  or  action, 


BETH    NORVELL 

riveted  the  attention.  It  was  a  triumph  beyond  applause, 
beyond  any  mere  outward  demonstration  of  approval. 
Winston  felt  the  spell  deeply,  his  entire  body  thrill 
ing  to  her  marvellous  delineation  of  this  com 
mon  thing,  her  uplifting  of  it  out  of  the  vile  ruck 
of  its  surroundings  and  giving  unto  it  the  abundant 
life  of  her  own  interpretation.  Never  once  did  he 
question  the  real  although  untrained  genius  back  of 
those  glowing  eyes,  that  expressive  face,  those  sincere, 
quiet  tones  which  so  touched  and  swayed  the  heart. 
In  other  days  he  had  seen  the  stage  at  its  best,  and  now 
he  recognized  in  this  woman  that  subtle  power  which 
must  conquer  all  things,  and  eventually  "arrive." 

Early  the  following  morning,  tossing  uneasily  upon 
a  hard  cot-bed  in  the  next  town  listed  in  their  itinerary, 
he  discovered  himself  totally  unable  to  divorce  this 
memory  from  his  thoughts.  She  even  mingled  with 
his  dreams,  —  a  rounded,  girlish  figure,  her  young  face 
glowing  with  the  emotions  dominating  her,  her  dark 
eyes  grave  with  thoughtfulness,  —  and  he  awoke,  at 
last,  facing  another  day  of  servile  toil,  actually  rejoicing 
to  remember  that  he  was  part  of  the  "  Heart  of  the 
World."  That  which  he  had  first  assumed  from  a 
mere  spirit  of  play,  the  veriest  freak  of  boyish  adven 
ture,  had  suddenly  developed  into  a  real  impulse  to 
which  his  heart  gave  complete  surrender. 

To  all  outward  appearances  Miss  Beth  Norvell 
remained  serenely  unconscious  regarding  either  his  ad 
miration  or  his  presence.  It  was  impossible  to  imagine 
that  in  so  small  a  company  he  could  continually  pass 
and  repass  without  attracting  notice,  yet  neither  word 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

nor  look  passed  between  them ;  no  introduction  had 
been  accorded,  and  she  merely  ignored  him,  under  the 
natural  impression,  without  doubt,  that  he  was  simply 
an  ignorant  roustabout  of  the  stage,  a  wielder  of 
trunks,  a  manipulator  of  scenery,  in  whom  she  could 
feel  no  possible  interest.  A  week  passed  thus,  the 
troupe  displaying  their  talents  to  fair  business,  and 
constantly  penetrating  into  more  remote  regions,  stop 
ping  at  all  manner  of  hotels,  travelling  in  every  species 
of  conveyance,  and  exhibiting  their  ability,  or  lack  of 
it,  upon  every  makeshift  of  a  stage.  Sometimes  this 
was  a  bare  hall ;  again  it  was  an  armory,  with  an  occa 
sional  opera  house  —  like  an  oasis  in  the  vast  desert  — 
to  yield  them  fresh  professional  courage.  Small  cities, 
straggling  towns,  boisterous  mining  camps  welcomed 
and  speeded  them  on,  until  sameness  became  routine, 
and  names  grew  meaningless.  It  was  the  sort  of  life 
to  test  character  thoroughly,  and  the  "  Heart  of  the 
World"  troupe  of  strollers  began  very  promptly  to 
exhibit  its  kind.  Albrecht,  who  was  making  money, 
retained  his  coarse  good-nature  unruffled  by  the  hard 
ships  of  travel ;  but  the  majority  of  the  stage  people 
grew  morose  and  fretful,  —  the  eminent  comedian,  glum 
and  unapproachable  as  a  bear;  the  leading  gentleman 
swearing  savagely  over  every  unusual  worry,  and  act 
ing  the  boor  generally ;  the  ingenue,  snappy  and  cat 
like.  Miss  Norvell  alone  among  them  all  appeared 
as  at  first,  reserved,  quiet,  uncomplaining,  forming  no 
intimate  friendships,  yet  performing  her  nightly  work 
with  constantly  augmenting  power.  Winston,  ever 
observing  her  with  increasing  interest,  imagined  that 

[as] 


BETH    NORVELL 

the  strain  of  such  a  life  was  telling  upon  her  health, 
exhibiting  its  baleful  effect  in  the  whitening  of  her 
cheeks,  in  those  darker  shadows  forming  beneath 
her  eyes,  as  well  as  in  a  shade  less  of  animation  in  her 
manner.  Yet  he  saw  comparatively  little  of  her,  his 
own  work  proving  sufficiently  onerous ;  the  quick 
jumps  from  town  to  town  leaving  small  opportunity 
for  either  rest  or  reflection.  He  had  been  advanced  to 
a  small  speaking  part,  but  the  remainder  of  his  waking 
hours,  while  he  was  attired  in  working-clothes,  was 
diligently  devoted  to  the  strenuous  labor  of  his  mus 
cles.  The  novelty  of  the  life  had  long  since  vanished, 
the  so  eagerly  expected  experience  had  already  become 
amply  sufficient ;  again  and  again,  flinging  his  wearied 
body  upon  a  cot  in  some  strange  room,  he  had  called 
himself  an  unmitigated  ass,  and  sworn  loudly  that  he 
would  certainly  quit  in  the  morning.  Yet  the  girl 
held  him.  He  did  not  completely  realize  how  or 
why,  yet  some  peculiar,  indefinite  fascination  appeared 
to  bind  his  destinies  to  her;  he  ever  desired  to  see 
her  once  again,  to  be  near  her,  to  feel  the  charm 
of  her  work,  to  listen  to  the  sound  of  her  voice,  to 
experience  the  thrill  of  her  presence.  So  strong  and 
compelling  became  this  influence  over  him  that  day 
after  day  he  held  on,  actually  afraid  to  sever  that  slight 
bond  of  professional  companionship. 

This  was  most  assuredly  through  no  fault  of  hers. 
It  was  at  Shelbyville  that  she  first  spoke  to  him,  first 
gave  him  the  earliest  intimation  that  she  even  so  much 
as  recognized  his  presence  in  the  company.  The 
house  that  particular  night  was  crowded  to  the  doors, 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

and  she,  completing  a  piece  of  work  which  left  her  cheeks 
flushed,  her  slender  form  trembling  from  intense  emo 
tion,  while  the  prolonged  applause  thundered  after  her 
from  the  front,  stepped  quickly  into  the  gloomy  shad 
ows  of  the  wings,  and  thus  came  face  to  face  with 
Winston.  His  eyes  were  glowing  with  unconcealed 
appreciation  of  her  art.  Perhaps  the  quick  reaction 
had  partially  unstrung  her  nerves,  for  she  spoke  with 
feverish  haste  at  sight  of  his  uprolled  sleeves  and  coarse 
woollen  shirt. 

"  How  does  it  occur  that  you  are  always  standing 
directly  in  my  passage  whenever  I  step  from  the 
stage  ?  "  she  questioned  impetuously.  "  Is  there  no 
other  place  where  you  can  wait  to  do  your  work  except 
in  my  exit?" 

For  a  brief  moment  the  surprised  man  stood  hesi 
tating,  hat  in  hand. 

"  I  certainly  regret  having  thus  unintentionally  of 
fended  you,  Miss  Norvell,"  he  explained  at  last,  slowly. 
"Yet,  surely,  the  occasion  should  bring  you  pleasure 
rather  than  annoyance." 

"Indeed!     Why,  pray?" 

"  Because  I  so  greatly  enjoy  your  work.  I  stood 
here  merely  that  I  might  observe  the  details  more  care 
fully." 

She  glanced  directly  at  him  with  suddenly  aroused 
interest. 

"You  enjoy  my  work?"  she  exclaimed,  slightly 
smiling.  "  How  extremely  droll !  Yet  without  doubt 
you  do,  precisely  as  those  others,  out  yonder,  with 
out  the  slightest  conception  of  what  it  all  means. 


BETH    NORVELL 

Probably  you  are  equally  interested  in  the  delicate  art 
of  Mr.  T.  Macready  Lane?" 

Winston  permitted  his  cool  gray  eyes  to  brighten, 
his  firmly  set  lips  slightly  to  relax. 

"  Lane  is  the  merest  buffoon,"  he  replied  quietly. 
"You  are  an  artist.  There  is  no  comparison  possible, 
Miss  Norvell.  The  play  itself  is  utterly  unworthy  of 
your  talent,  yet  you  succeed  in  dignifying  it  in  a  way 
I  can  never  cease  to  admire." 

She  stood  staring  straight  at  him,  her  lips  parted, 
apparently  so  thoroughly  startled  by  these  unexpected 
words  as  to  be  left  speechless. 

"Why,"  she  managed  to  articulate  at  last,  her 
cheeks  flushing,  "  I  supposed  you  like  the  others  we 
have  had  with  us — just  —  just  a  common  stage  hand. 
You  speak  with  refinement,  with  meaning." 

"  Have  you  not  lived  sufficiently  long  in  the  West 
to  discover  that  men  of  education  are  occasionally  to  be 
found  in  rough  clothing?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  doubtfully,  her  eyes  still  on  his  face, 
"miners,  stockmen,  engineers,  but  scarcely  in  your 
present  employment." 

"  Miss  Norvell,"  and  Winston  straightened  up,  "pos 
sibly  I  may  be  employed  here  for  a  reason  similar  to 
that  which  has  induced  you  to  travel  with  a  troupe  of 
barn-stormers." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  her  lips  smiling,  the 
seductive  dimple  showing  in  her  cheeks. 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"  The  ambition  of  an  amateur  to  attain  a  foothold 
upon  the  professional  stage." 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

"Who  told  you  so?" 

"Mr.  Samuel  Albrecht  was  guilty  of  the  sugges 
tion." 

"  It  was  extremely  nice  of  him  to  discuss  my  motives 
thus  freely  with  a  stranger.  But  he  told  you  only  a 
very  small  portion  of  the  truth.  In  my  case  it  was 
rather  the  imperative  necessity  of  an  amateur  to  earn 
her  own  living  —  a  deliberate  choice  between  the  pro 
fessional  stage  and  starvation." 

"Without  ambition  ? " 

She  hesitated  slightly,  yet  there  was  a  depth  of 
respect  slumbering  within  those  gray  eyes  gazing  so 
directly  into  her  darker  ones,  together  with  a  strength 
she  felt. 

"Without  very  much  at  first,  I  fear,"  she  confessed, 
as  though  admitting  it  rather  to  herself  alone,  "yet  I 
acknowledge  it  has  since  grown  upon  me,  until  I  have 
determined  to  succeed." 

His  eyes  brightened,  the  admiration  in  them  uncon 
cealed,  his  lips  speaking  impulsively. 

"And  what  is  more,  Miss  Norvell,  you  '11  make  it." 

"  Do  you  truly  believe  so  ? "  She  had  already 
forgotten  that  the  man  before  her  was  a  mere  stage 
hand,  and  her  cheeks  burned  eagerly  to  the  undoubted 
sincerity  of  his  utterance.  "  No  one  else  has  ever  said 
that  to  me  —  only  the  audiences  have  appeared  to  care 
and  appreciate.  Albrecht  and  all  those  others  have 
scarcely  offered  me  a  word  of  encouragement." 

"Albrecht  and  the  others  are  asses,"  ejaculated 
Winston,  with  sudden  indignation.  "They  imagine 
they  are  actors  because  they  prance  and  bellow  on  a 


BETH    NORVELL 

stage,  and  they  sneer  at  any  one  who  is  not  in  their 
class.  But  I  can  tell  you  this,  Miss  Norvell,  the 
manager  considers  you  a  treasure ;  he  said  as  much  to 
me." 

She  stood  before  him,  the  glare  of  the  stage  glinting 
in  her  hair,  her  hands  clasped,  her  dark  eyes  eagerly 
reading  his  face  as  though  these  unexpected  words  of 
appreciation  had  yielded  her  renewed  courage,  like  a 
glass  of  wine. 

"Really,  is  that  true?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad.  I 
thought,  perhaps,  they  were  only  making  fun  of  me 
out  in  front,  although  I  have  always  tried  so  hard  to  do 
my  very  best.  You  have  given  me  a  new  hope  that  I 
may  indeed  master  the  art.  Was  that  my  cue  ?  " 

She  stepped  quickly  backward,  listening  to  the  voices 
droning  on  the  stage,  but  there  remained  still  a  mo 
ment  of  liberty,  and  she  glanced  uncertainly  about  at 
Winston. 

"Am  I  to  thank  you  for  giving  me  such  immaculate 
dressing-rooms  of  late?"  she  questioned,  just  a  little 
archly. 

"  I  certainly  wielded  the  broom." 

"  It  was  thoughtful  of  you,"  and  her  clear  voice 
hesitated  an  instant.  "Was  —  was  it  you,  also,  who 
placed  those  flowers  upon  my  trunk  last  evening? " 

He  bowed,  feeling  slightly  embarrassed  by  the  swift 
returning  restraint  in  her  manner. 

"They  were  most  beautiful.  Where  did  you  get 
them  ? "  " 

"  From  Denver ;  they  were  forwarded  by  express, 
and  I  am  only  too  glad  if  they  brought  you  pleasure." 

[30] 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

"  Miracle  of  miracles  !  A  stage-hand  ordering  roses 
from  Denver!  It  must  have  cost  you  a  week's  sal 
ary." 

He  smiled : 

"And,  alas,  the  salary  has  not  even  been  paid." 

Her  eyes  were  uplifted  to  his  face,  yet  fell  as  sud 
denly,  shadowed  behind  the  long  lashes. 

"I  thank  you  very  much,"  she  said,  her  voice 
trembling,  "  only  please  don't  do  it  again ;  I  would 
rather  not  have  you." 

Before  he  could  frame  a  satisfactory  answer  to  so 
unexpected  a  prohibition  she  had  stepped  forth  upon 
the  stage. 

This  brief  interview  did  not  prove  as  prolific  of 
results  as  Winston  confidently  expected.  Miss  Norvell 
evidently  considered  such  casual  conversation  no  foun 
dation  for  future  friendship,  and  although  she  greeted 
him  when  they  again  met,  much  as  she  acknowl 
edged  acquaintanceship  with  the  others  of  the 
troupe,  there  remained  a  quiet  reserve  about  her  man 
ner,  which  effectually  barred  all  thought  of  possible 
familiarity.  Indeed,  that  she  ever  again  considered 
him  as  in  any  way  differing  from  the  others  about  her 
did  not  once  occur  to  Winston  until  one  evening  at 
Bluffton,  when  by  chance  he  stood  resting  behind  a 
piece  of  set  scenery  and  thus  overheard  the  manager 
as  he  halted  the  young  lady  on  the  way  to  her  dress 
ing  room. 

"  Meess  Norvell,"  and  Albrecht  stood  rubbing  his 
hands  and  smiling  genially,  "  at  Gilchrist  we  are  pilled 
to  blay  for  dwo  nights,  und  der  second  blay  vill  be  der 

[31] 


BETH    NORVELL 

'Man  from  der  Vest' — you  know  dot  bart,  Ida 
Somers  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  acknowledged,  "I  am  perfectly  ac 
quainted  with  the  lines,  but  who  is  to  play  Ralph 
Wilde?" 

"  Mister  Mooney,  of  course.  You  tink  dot  I  import 
some  actors  venever  I  change  der  pill?" 

She  lifted  her  dark,  expressive  eyes  to  his  mottled 
face,  slowly  gathering  up  her  skirts  in  one  hand. 

"As  you  please,"  she  said  quietly,  "but  I  shall 
not  play  Ida  Somers  to  Mr.  Mooney's  Ralph  Wilde. 
I  told  you  as  much  plainly  before  we  left  Denver, 
and  it  was  for  that  special  reason  the  c  Heart  of  the 
World '  was  substituted.  The  more  I  have  seen  of 
Mr.  Mooney  since  we  took  the  road,  the  less  I  am 
inclined  to  yield  in  this  matter." 

Albrecht  laughed  coarsely,  his  face  reddening. 

"  Oh,  bah  !  "  he  .exclaimed,  gruffly  derisive.  "  Ven 
you  begome  star  then  you  can  have  dem  tantrums,  but 
not  now,  not  mit  me.  You  blay  vat  I  say,  or  I  send 
back  after  some  von  else.  You  bedder  not  get  too  gay, 
or  you  lose  your  job  damn  quick.  You  don't  vant 
Mooney  to  make  lofe  to  you  ?  You  don't  vant  him  to 
giss  you?  —  hey,  vos  dot  it?" 

"Yes,  that  was  exactly  it." 

"  Ach  !  —  you  too  nice  to  be  brofessional ;  you  like 
to  choose  your  lofer,  hey?  You  forget  you  earn  a 
livin'  so.  Vot  you  got  against  Mooney  ?  " 

Miss  Norvell,  her  cheeks  burning  indignantly,  her 
eyes  already  ablaze,  did  not  mince  words. 

"  Nothing  personally  just  so  long  as  he  keeps  away 


OUT    WITH    A    ROAD    COMPANY 

from  me,"  she  retorted  clearly.  "He  is  coarse,  vulgar, 
boorish,  and  I  have  far  too  much  respect  for  myself  to 
permit  such  a  man  to  touch  me,  either  upon  the  stage 
or  off;  to  have  him  kiss  me  would  be  an  unbearable 
insult." 

Albrecht,  totally  unable  to  comprehend  the  feelings 
of  the  girl,  shifted  uneasily  beneath  the  sharp  sting  of 
her  words,  yet  continued  to  smile  idiotically. 

"  Dot  is  very  nice,  quite  melodramatic,  but  it  is  not 
brofessional,  Meess,"  he  stammered,  striving  to  get 
hold  of  some  satisfactory  argument.  "Vy,  Mooney 
vos  not  so  pad.  Meess  Lyle  she  act  dot  bart  mit  him 
all  der  last  season,  and  make  no  kick.  Dunder !  vat 
you  vant  —  an  angel  ?  You  don't  hafe  to  take  dot  bart 
mit  me,  or  Meester  Lane  either,  don't  it,  hey?" 

Miss  Norvell  turned  contemptuously  away  from 
him,  her  face  white  with  determination. 

"  If  you  really  want  to  know,  there  is  only  one  man 
in  all  your  troupe  I  would  consent  to  play  it  with," 
she  declared  calmly. 

"Unddotis?" 

"  I  do  not  even  know  his  name,"  and  she  turned  her 
head  just  sufficiently  to  look  directly  into  Albrecht's 
surprised  face ;  "  but  I  refer  to  your  new  utility  man ; 
he,  at  least,  possesses  some  of  the  ordinary  attributes 
of  a  gentleman." 

The  door  of  her  dressing-room  opened  and  closed, 
leaving  the  startled  manager  standing  alone  without, 
gasping  for  breath,  his  thick  lips  gurgling  impotent 
curses,  while  Winston  discreetly  drew  farther  back 
amid  the  intricacy  of  scenery.,, 

[33] 


CHAPTER  III 

A  BREAKING  OF  ICE 

THE  troupe  in  its  wandering  arrived  at  Bolton 
Junction  early  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  and 
Winston,  lingering  a  moment  in  the  hotel  office, 
overheard  Miss  Norvell  ask  the  manager  if  they  would 
probably  spend  Sunday  there;  and  later  question  the 
hotel  clerk  regarding  any  Episcopalian  services  in 
the  town.  Their  rather  late  arrival,  however,  kept  him 
so  exceedingly  busy  with  stage  preparation  for  the  even 
ing's  performance  that  this  conversation  scarcely 
recurred  to  mind  until  his  night's  labor  had  been  com 
pleted.  Then,  in  the  silence  of  his  room,  he  resolved 
upon  an  immediate  change  in  conditions,  or  else  the 
deliberate  giving  up  of  further  experiment  altogether. 
He  was  long  since  tired  enough  of  it,  yet  a  strange, 
almost  unaccountable  attraction  for  this  young  woman 
continued  binding  him  to  disagreeable  servitude. 

He  came  down  stairs  the  following  morning,  his 
plans  completely  determined  upon.  He  was  carefully 
dressed  in  the  neat  business  suit  which  had  been  packed 
away  ever  since  his  first  reckless  plunge  into  theatrical 
life,  and  thus  attired  he  felt  more  like  his  old  self  than 
at  any  moment  since  his  surrender  to  the  dictation  of 
Albrecht.  In  some  degree  self-confidence,  audacity, 
hope,  came  promptly  trooping  back  with  the  mere 
donning  of  clean  linen  and  semi-fashionable  attire,  so 

[34] 


A    BREAKING    OF    I  CE 

that  Winston  "utility"  became  Winston  gentleman, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  other  members  of  the 
troupe  slept  late,  leaving  him  to  breakfast  alone  after 
vainly  loitering  about  the  office  in  the  hope  that  Miss 
Norvell  might  by  some  chance  appear  and  keep  him 
company.  It  was  almost  mortifying  to  behold  that 
young  woman  enter  the  deserted  dining-room  soon 
after  he  had  returned  to  the  lonely  office,  but  she  gave 
no  sign  of  recognition  in  passing,  and  his  returned 
audacity  scarcely  proved  sufficient  to  permit  his 
encroachment  upon  her  privacy.  He  could  only  linger 
a  moment  at  the  desk  in  an  effort  to  catch  a  better 
view  of  her  through  the  partially  open  door. 

Nervously  gripping  a  freshly  lighted  cigar,  Winston 
finally  strolled  forth  upon  the  wide  porch  to  await,  with 
all  possible  patience,  the  opportunity  he  felt  assured 
was  fast  approaching.  It  was  a  bright  spring  morning, 
sufficiently  warm  to  be  comfortable  without  in  the  sun 
shine,  although  the  mountains  overshadowing  the 
town  were  yet  white  with  snow.  The  one  long,  strag 
gling  business  street  appeared  sufficiently  lonely,  being 
almost  deserted,  the  shops  closed.  The  notable  con 
trast  between  its  present  rather  dreary  desolation  and 
the  wild  revelry  of  the  previous  night  seemed  really 
painful,  while  the  solemn  prevailing  stillness  served  to 
weaken  Winston's  bold  resolutions  and  brought  him  a 
strange  timidity.  He  slowly  strolled  a  block  or  more, 
peering  in  at  the  shop  windows,  yet  never  venturing 
beyond  easy  view  of  the  hotel  steps.  Then  he  saun 
tered  as  deliberately  back  again.  Lane  and  Mooney 
were  now  stationed  upon  the  porch,  tipping  far  back 

[35] 


BETH    NORVELL 

in  their  chairs,  their  feet  deposited  on  the  convenient 
railing,  smoking  and  conversing  noisily  with  a  group 
of  travelling  men.  Winston,  to  his  disgust,  caught 
little  scraps  of  the  coarse  stories  exchanged,  constantly 
greeted  by  roars  of  laughter,  but  drew  as  far  away  from 
their  immediate  vicinity  as  possible,  leaning  idly  against 
the  rail.  Far  down  the  street,  from  some  unseen 
steeple,  a  church  bell  rang  solemnly.  Listening,  he 
wondered  if  she  would  come  alone,  and  a  dread  lest 
she  might  not  set  his  heart  throbbing. 

Albrecht,  looking  not  unlike  a  fat  hog  newly  shaven, 
sauntered  out  of  the  open  office  door,  and  stared  idly 
about.  He  spoke  a  gracious  word  or  two  to  his  rather 
silent  utility  man,  viewing  his  well-cut  clothing  with 
some  apparent  misgiving,  finally  drifting  over  to  join 
the  more  congenial  group  beyond.  Winston  did  not 
alter  his  chosen  position,  but  remained  with  watchful 
eyes  never  long  straying  from  off  the  ladies'  entrance,  a 
few  steps  to  his  left.  All  at  once  that  slightly  used 
door  opened,  and  the  hot  blood  leaped  through  his 
veins  as  Miss  Norvell  stepped  forth  unaccompanied. 
She  appeared  well  groomed,  looking  dainty  enough  in 
her  blue  skirt  and  jacket,  her  dark  hair  crowned  by  the 
tasteful  blue  toque,  a  prayer-book  clasped  in  one  neatly 
gloved  hand.  As  she  turned  unconsciously  toward  the 
steps,  Winston  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed.  With  a  quick 
upward  glance  of  surprise  the  girl  recognized  him,  a  sud 
den  flush  crimsoning  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  as  instantly 
dropping  before  his  own.  In  that  sudden  revela 
tion  the  young  man  appeared  to  her  an  utterly  differ 
ent  character  from  what  she  had  formerly  considered 

[36] 


A    BREA  KING    OF    ICE 

him ;  the  miracle  of  good  clothing,  of  environment, 
had  suddenly  placed  them  upon  a  level  of  com 
panionship.  That  Winston  likewise  experienced 
something  of  this  same  exaltation  was  plainly  evident, 
although  his  low  voice  trembled  in  momentary  excite 
ment. 

cc  I  trust  you  will  pardon  my  presumption,"  he  said, 
taking  the  single  step  necessary  to  face  her,  "but  I 
confess  having  been  deliberately  waiting  here  to 
request  the  privilege  of  walking  to  church  beside  you." 

"Beside  me?  Indeed!"  and  both  lips  and  eyes 
smiled  unreservedly  back  at  him.  "And  how  did  you 
chance  to  guess  it  was  my  intention  to  attend?  Is  it  a 
peculiarity  of  leading  ladies  ?  " 

"As  to  that  I  cannot  safely  say,  my  acquaintance 
among  them  being  limited."  He  was  acquiring  fresh 
confidence  from  her  cordial  manner.  "  But  I  chanced 
to  overhear  your  questioning  the  clerk  last  night,  and 
the  bold  project  at  once  took  possession  of  me.  Am 
I  granted  such  permission  ?  " 

Her  dark  eyes  wandered  from  their  early  scrutiny  of 
his  eager  face  toward  that  small  group  of  interested 
smokers  beyond.  What  she  may  have  beheld  there 
was  instantly  reflected  in  a  pursing  of  the  lips,  a  swift 
decision. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  your  company,"  she 
responded,  frankly  meeting  his  eyes,  "  but  longer  delay 
will  probably  make  us  late,  and  I  abominate  that." 

As  they  passed  down  the  steps  to  the  street  Winston 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  others.  They  were  all 
intently  gazing  after  them,  while  Mooney  had  even 

[37] 


BETH    NORVELL 

risen  to  his  feet  and  taken  a  step  forward,  his  cigar  still 
in  his  mouth.  Then  the  group  behind  laughed  loudly, 
and  the  younger  man  set  his  teeth,  his  cheeks  flushed 
from  sudden  anger.  He  would  have  enjoyed  dashing 
back  up  the  steps,  and  giving  those  grinning  fools  a 
much-needed  lesson,  but  he  glanced  aside  at  his  com 
panion,  her  eyes  downcast,  seemingly  utterly  uncon 
scious  of  it  all,  and  gripped  himself,  walking  along 
beside  her,  erect  and  silent.  They  traversed  the  entire 
deserted  block  without  speaking,  each  busied  indeed 
with  the  intricacies  of  the  board  walk.  Then  Winston 
sought  to  break  the  somewhat  embarrassing  silence,  his 
first  words  sounding  strangely  awkward  and  constrained. 

"  It  was  exceedingly  kind  of  you  to  grant  such 
privilege  when  we  have  scarcely  even  spoken  to  each 
other  before." 

She  glanced  aside  at  his  grave  face,  a  certain  coquet 
tish  smile  making  her  appear  suddenly  girlish. 

"  Possibly  if  you  realized  the  exact  cause  of  my 
complete  surrender  you  might  not  feel  so  highly 
flattered,"  she  confessed,  shyly. 

"  Indeed  !  You  mean  why  it  was  you  consented  so 
easily  ?  Then  possibly  you  had  better  inform  me  at 
once,  for  I  acknowledge  feeling  quite  conceited  already 
at  my  good  fortune." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  questioningly,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  looked  directly  down  into  their  unveiled  depths. 

"  Then  I  must  certainly  make  confession.     What  if 
I  should  say,  I  merely  accepted  the  lesser  of  two  evils  — 
in  short,  preferred  your  company  to  something  I  con 
sidered  infinitely  worse  ? " 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

"You  refer  to  Mooney?  " 

She  nodded,  her  dark  eyes  once  again  shadowed,  her 
cheeks  slightly  reddening  beneath  his  steady  gaze. 

"Why,  I  can  scarcely  feel  greatly  flattered  at  being 
made  the  subject  of  such  a  choice,"  Winston  acknowl 
edged  with  frankness.  "  The  very  conception  brings 
me  uneasiness  in  fear  lest  my  presence  may  be  unwel 
come  now  that  Mooney  has  been  safely  left  behind. 
Yet  it  yields  me  boldness  also,  and  I  venture  to  ask 
Miss  Norvell  what  she  would  probably  have  answered 
had  Mooney  been  left  out  of  the  problem  entirely?" 

His  low  voice  held  a  ring  of  subdued  earnestness, 
and  the  face  of  the  woman  as  quickly  lost  its  smile. 
An  instant  she  hesitated,  her  eyes  downcast,  fully  con 
scious  he  was  anxiously  searching  her  countenance  for 
the  exact  truth. 

"And  under  those  conditions,"  she  responded  finally, 
"  Miss  Norvell  would  very  probably  have  answered  yes, 
only  it  would  have  been  more  deliberately  uttered,  so 
that  you  should  have  realized  the  measure  of  her  con 
descension." 

Winston  laughed. 

"You  can  have  small  conception  of  the  intense 
relief  brought  me  by  that  last  acknowledgment,"  he 
explained  cheerfully.  "  Now  I  can  proceed  with  clear 
conscience,  and  shall  undoubtedly  discover  in  the  church 
service  an  expression  of  my  own  devout  gratitude." 

It  was  an  exceedingly  alert  exchange  of  words  which 
followed,  each  cautiously  exploring  a  way  in  toward  a 
somewhat  clearer  understanding  of  the  other,  yet  both 
becoming  quickly  convinced  that  they  were  not 

[39] 


BETH    NORVELL 

destined  for  ordinary  acquaintanceship.  To  Miss  Nor- 
vell,  observing  her  companion  with  shy  intentness, 
this  erect,  manly  young  fellow  with  weather-browned, 
clean-shaven  face  and  straightforward  gray  eyes 
seemed  to  evince  a  power  of  manhood  she  instinc 
tively  felt  and  surrendered  to.  His  were  those  ele 
ments  which  a  woman  of  her  nature  must  instantly 
recognize — physical  strength  and  daring,  combined  with 
mental  acuteness  and  indomitable  will.  The  fact 
of  his  present  unworthy  employment  added  the  fas 
cination  of  mystery  to  his  personality,  for  it  was  mani 
festly  impossible  to  conceive  that  such  a  position 
was  all  this  man  had  ever  achieved  in  life.  And  Win 
ston  wondered  likewise  at  her,  his  earlier  admiration 
for  the  bright  attractiveness  of  face  and  manner  broad 
ening  as  her  mind  gave  quick  response  to  his  leader 
ship.  Here  was  certainly  no  commonplace  girl  of  the 
stage,  but  an  educated,  refined,  ambitious  woman, 
matured  beyond  her  years  by  experience,  her  conversa 
tion  exhibiting  a  wide  range  of  reading,  interwoven 
with  a  deep  knowledge  of  life.  They  spoke  of  ideals, 
of  art,  of  literature,  of  secret  aspirations,  not  often 
mentioned  during  such  early  acquaintanceship,  break 
ing  through  that  mental  barrenness  which  had  charac 
terized  their  living  for  weeks,  this  common  ground  of 
thought  and  interest  awakening  between  them  an  im 
mediate  friendliness  and  frankness  of  utterance  delight 
fully  inspiring.  Almost  without  comprehending  how 
it  occurred  they  were  chatting  together  as  if  the 
eventful  years  had  already  cemented  their  acquaint 
anceship.  With  cheeks  flushed  and  eyes  glowing 

[40] 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

from  aroused  interest  Miss  Norvell  increased  in  beauty, 
and  Winston  observed  her  with  an  admiration  finding 
frank  expression  in  his  eyes. 

It  was  a  small  chapel  they  sought,  situated  at  the 
extreme  end  of  the  straggling  street,  and  the  worship 
pers  were  few.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  ritual  and  the 
sermon  the  two  walked  forth  together  in  silence,  their 
former  brief  intimacy  a  mere  memory,  neither  realiz 
ing  exactly  how  best  to  resume  a  conversation  which 
had  been  interrupted  by  so  solemn  a  service.  It  was 
Miss  Norvell  who  first  broke  the  constraint. 

"You  are  evidently  well  acquainted  with  the  intrica 
cies  of  the  prayer-book,"  she  remarked  quietly,  "  and 
hence  I  venture  to  inquire  if  you  are  a  churchman." 

"  Not  exactly,  although  my  parents  are  both  com 
municants,  and  I  was  brought  up  to  attend  service." 

"  Do  you  know,  I  am  glad  even  of  that?  It  is  a  lit 
tle  additional  bond  between  us  merely  to  feel  interested 
in  the  same  church,  isn't  it?  I  was  guilty  during 
the  service  of  thinking  how  exceedingly  odd  it  was  for 
us  to  talk  so  frankly  together  this  morning  when  we 
knew  absolutely  nothing  regarding  each  other.  Would 
you  mind  if  I  questioned  you  just  a  little  about 
yourself?" 

He  glanced  aside  at  her  in  surprise,  all  remembrance 
that  they  were  comparatively  strangers  having  deserted 
his  mind.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had  already  known  her 
for  years. 

"  Most  certainly  question;  I  had  no  thought  of  any 
concealment." 

She  smiled  at  the  confusedness  of  his  words,  yet  her 


BETH    NORVELL 

own  speech  was  not  entirely  devoid  of  embarrass 
ment. 

"  It  does  appear  almost  ridiculous,  but  really  I  do 
not  even  know  your  name." 

"  It  is  Ned  Winston." 

"Not  so  bad  a  name,  is  it?  Do  you  mind  telling 
me  where  your  home  is?" 

"  I  can  scarcely  lay  claim  to  such  a  spot,  but  my 
people  live  in  Denver." 

She  drew  a  quick,  surprised  breath,  her  eyes 
instantly  falling,  as  though  she  would  thus  conceal 
some  half-revealed  secret.  For  a  moment  her  parted 
lips  trembled  to  a  question  she  hesitated  asking. 

t%  I  —  I  believe  I  have  heard  of  a  Colonel  Daniel 
Winston  in  Denver,  a  banker,"  she  said  finally.  "  I 
—  I  have  seen  his  house." 

"  He  is  my  father." 

Her  shadowing  lashes  suddenly  uplifted,  the  color 
once  again  flooding  the  clear  cheeks. 

"You  are,  indeed,  becoming  a  man  of  mystery," 
she  exclaimed,  affecting  lightness  of  utterance.  "  The 
son  of  Colonel  Winston  acting  as  utility  for  a  troupe 
of  strollers  !  I  can  hardly  believe  it  true." 

Winston  laughed. 

"  It  does  seem  a  trifle  out  of  proportion,"  he  con 
fessed,  "  and  I  can  hardly  hope  to  make  the  situation 
entirely  clear.  Yet  I  am  not  quite  so  unworthy  my 
birthright  as  would  appear  upon  the  surface.  I  will 
trust  you  with  a  portion  of  the  story,  at  least,  Miss 
Norvell.  I  am  by  profession  a  mining  engineer,  and 
was  sent  out,  perhaps  a  month  ago,  by  a  syndicate  of 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

Denver  capitalists  to  examine  thoroughly  into  some 
promising  claims  at  Shell  Rock.  I  made  the  exami 
nation,  completed  and  mailed  my  report,  and  finally,  on 
the  same  day  your  company  arrived  there,  I  discovered 
myself  in  Rockton  with  nothing  to  do  and  several  weeks 
of  idleness  on  my  hands.  I  had  intended  returning  to 
Denver,  but  a  sudden  temptation  seized  me  to  try  the 
experiment  of  a  week  or  two  in  wandering  theatrical 
life.  I  had  always  experienced  a  boyish  hankering 
that  way,  and  have  a  natural  inclination  to  seek  new 
experiences.  Albrecht  was  favorably  impressed  with 
my  application,  and  hence  I  easily  attained  to  my  pres 
ent  exalted  position  upon  the  stage." 

"And  is  that  all?" 

"  Not  entirely ;  there  yet  remains  a  chapter  to  be 
added  to  my  confessions.  I  acknowledge  I  should 
have  long  since  tired  of  the  life  and  its  hardships,  had 
you  not  chanced  to  be  a  member  of  the  same  troupe." 

"  I,  Mr.  Winston  ?  Why,  we  have  scarcely  spoken 
to  each  other  until  to-day." 

"  True,  yet  I  strenuously  deny  that  it  was  my  fault. 
In  fact,  I  had  firmly  determined  that  we  should,  and, 
having  been  a  spoiled  child,  I  am  accustomed  to  having 
my  own  way.  This,  perhaps,  will  partially  account 
for  my  persistency  and  for  my  still  being  with  c  The 
Heart  of  the  World.'  But  all  else  aside,  I  early 
became  intensely  interested  in  your  work,  Miss  Nor- 
vell,  instantly  recognizing  that  it  required  no  common 
degree  of  ability  to  yield  dignity  to  so  poor  a  thing  as 
the  play  in  which  you  appear.  I  began  to  study  you 
and  your  interpretation ;  I  never  tired  of  noting 

[43] 


BETH    NORVELL 

those  little  fresh  touches  with  which  you  constantly 
succeeded  in  embellishing  your  lines  and  your  c  busi 
ness/  and  how  clearly  your  conception  of  character 
stood  forth  against  the  crude  background  of  those 
mummers  surrounding  you.  It  was  a  lesson  in  inter 
pretative  art  to  me,  and  one  I  never  wearied  of.  Then, 
I  must  likewise  confess,  something  else  occurred." 

He  paused,  looking  aside  at  her,  and,  as  though  she 
felt  the  spell  of  that  glance,  she  turned  her  own  face, 
brightened  by  such  earnest  words  of  praise,  their  eyes 
meeting  frankly, 

"What?" 

"The  most  natural  thing  in  the  world — my  admi 
ration  for  the  art  only  served  to  increase  my  early 
interest  in  the  artist.  I  began  to  feel  drawn  not  only 
to  the  actress  but  to  the  woman,"  he  said  gravely. 

Her  eyes  never  faltered,  but  faced  him  bravely, 
although  her  cheeks  were  like  poppies,  and  her  lips 
faltered  in  their  first  bold  effort  at  swift  reply. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  honestly  think  that  about  my 
work ;  so  glad  you  told  me.  It  is  a  wonderful  encour 
agement,  for  I  know  now  that  you  speak  as  a  man  of 
education,  of  cultivation.  You  must  have  seen  the 
highest  class  of  stage  interpretation,  and,  I  am  sure, 
have  no  desire  merely  to  flatter  me.  You  do  not  speak 
as  if  you  meant  an  idle  compliment.  Oh,  you  can 
scarcely  conceive  how  much  success  will  spell  to  me, 
Mr.  Winston,"  her  voice  growing  deeper  from  increasing 
earnestness,  her  eyes  more  thoughtful;  "  but  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  a  portion  of  my  life-story  in  order  that  you 
may  partially  comprehend.  This  is  my  first  professional 

[44] 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

engagement ;  but  I  was  no  stage-struck  girl  when  I  first 
applied  for  the  position.  Rather,  the  thought  was 
most  repugnant  to  me.  My  earlier  life  had  been 
passed  under  conditions  which  held  me  quite  aloof 
from  anything  of  the  kind.  While  I  always  enjoyed 
interpreting  character  as  a  relaxation,  and  even  achieved, 
while  at  school  in  the  East,  a  rather  enviable  reputation 
as  an  amateur,  I  nevertheless  had  a  distinct  prejudice 
against  the  professional  stage,  even  while  intensely 
admiring  its  higher  exponents.  My  turning  to  it  for 
a  livelihood  was  a  grim  necessity,  my  first  week  on  the 
road  a  continual  horror.  I  abhorred  the  play,  the 
making  of  a  nightly  spectacle  of  myself,  the  rudeness 
and  freedom  of  the  audiences,  the  coarse,  common 
place  people  with  whom  I  was  constantly  compelled  to 
consort.  You  know  them,  and  can  therefore  realize 
to  some  extent  what  daily  association  with  them  must 
necessarily  mean  to  one  of  my  early  training  and 
familiarity  with  quieter  social  customs.  But  my  posi 
tion  in  the  troupe  afforded  me  certain  privileges  of 
isolation,  while  my  necessities  compelled  me  to  perse 
vere.  As  a  result,  the  dormant  art-spirit  within  appar 
ently  came  to  life ;  ambition  began  to  usurp  the  place 
of  indifference;  I  became  more  and  more  disgusted 
with  mediocrity,  and  began  an  earnest  struggle  toward 
higher  achievements.  I  had  little  to  guide  me  other 
than  my  own  natural  instincts,  yet  I  persevered.  I 
insisted  on  living  my  own  life  while  off  the  stage,  and, 
to  kill  unhappy  thought,  I  devoted  all  my  spare 
moments  to  hard  study.  Almost  to  my  surprise,  the 
very  effort  brought  with  it  happiness.  I  began  to 

[45] 


BETH    NO  R VELL 

forget  the  past  and  its  crudities,  to  blot  out  the  present 
with  its  dull,  unpleasant  realities,  and  to  live  for  the 
future.  My  ideals,  at  first  but  vague  dreams,  took 
form  and  substance.  I  determined  to  succeed,  to 
master  my  art,  to  develop  whatever  of  talent  I  might 
possess  to  its  highest  possibility,  to  become  an  actress 
worthy  of  the  name.  This  developing  ideal  has 
already  made  me  a  new  woman  —  it  has  given  me 
something  to  live  for,  to  strive  toward." 

She  came  to  a  sudden  pause,  perceiving  in  the 
frank  gray  eyes  scanning  her  animated  face  a  look 
which  caused  her  own  to  droop.  Then  her  lips  set  in 
firmer  resolution,  and  she  continued  as  though  in  utter 
indifference  to  his  presence. 

"You  may  not  comprehend  all  this,  but  I  do.  It 
was  the  turning-point  in  my  life.  And  I  began  right 
where  I  was.  I  endeavored  to  make  the  utmost 
possible  out  of  that  miserable  melodramatic  part 
which  had  been  assigned  to  me.  I  elected  to  play  it 
quietly,  with  an  intensity  to  be  felt  and  not  heard,  the 
very  opposite  from  the  interpretation  given  by  Miss 
Lyle  last  season,  and  I  felt  assured  my  efforts  were 
appreciated  by  the  audiences.  It  encouraged  me  to 
discover  them  so  responsive  ;  but  Albrecht,  Lane,  and 
Mooney  merely  laughed  and  winked  at  each  other, 
and  thus  hurt  me  cruelly,  although  I  had  little  respect 
for  their  criticisms.  Still,  they  were  professional 
actors  of  experience,  and  I  was  not  yet  certain  that  my 
judgment  might  not  be  wrong.  Miss  Head,  the 
ingenue,  a  girl  of  sweet  disposition  but  little  education, 
praised  my  efforts  warmly,  but  otherwise  your  evident 

[46] 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

appreciation  is  my  only  real  reward.  I  spoke  to  you 
that  evening  in  the  wings  not  so  much  to  scold  you 
for  being  in  the  way,  as  from  a  hungry,  despairing 
hope  that  you  might  speak  some  word  of  encourage 
ment.  I  was  not  disappointed,  and  I  have  felt 
stronger  ever  since." 

"  I  should  never  have  suspected  any  such  purpose. 
We  have  never  so  much  as  exchanged  speech  since, 
until  to-day,  and  then  I  forced  it." 

She  shook  her  head,  a  vagrant  tress  of  her  black 
hair  loosening. 

"You  must  be  a  very  young  and  inexperienced  man 
to  expect  to  comprehend  all  that  any  woman  feels 
merely  by  what  she  says  or  does." 

"No,"  smilingly,  "I  have  advanced  beyond  that 
stage  of  development,  although  the  mystery  of  some 
womanly  natures  may  always  remain  beyond  me.  But 
can  I  ask  you  a  somewhat  personal  question,  also?" 

"  Most  assuredly,  yet  I  expressly  reserve  the  privi 
lege  of  refusing  a  direct  reply." 

"Is  Beth  Norvell  your  real,  or  merely  your  stage 
name?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  ?  That  is  a  secret  which,  I  believe, 
an  actress  is  privileged  to  keep  inviolate." 

"  For  one  particular  reason — because  I  cannot  escape  a 
vague  impression  that  somewhere  we  have  met  before." 

She  did  not  respond  immediately,  her  gloved  fingers 
perceptibly  tightening  about  the  prayer-book,  her  eyes 
carefully  avoiding  his  own. 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  that,  for  we  have  never  met," 
she  said  slowly,  and  with  emphasis.  "  Moreover,  Beth 

[47] 


BETH    NORVELL 

Norvell  is  my  stage  name,  but  in  part  it  is  my  true 
name  also."  Suddenly  she  paused  and  glanced  aside 
at  him.  "  I  have  spoken  with  unusual  frankness  to  you 
this  morning,  Mr.  Winston.  Most  people,  I  imagine, 
find  me  diffident  and  uncommunicative  —  perhaps  I 
appear  according  to  my  varying  moods.  But  I  have 
been  lonely,  and  in  some  way  you  have  inspired  my 
confidence  and  unlocked  my  life.  I  believe  you  to 
be  a  man  worthy  of  trust,  and  because  I  thus  believe 
I  am  now  going  to  request  you  not  to  ask  me  any 
more.  My  past  life  has  not  been  so  bright  that  I 
enjoy  dwelling  upon  it.  I  have  chosen  rather  to  forget 
it  entirely,  and  live  merely  for  the  future." 

They  were  standing  before  the  door  of  the  ladies' 
entrance  to  the  hotel  by  this  time,  and  the  young  man 
lifted  his  hat  gravely. 

"Your  wish  shall  certainly  be  respected,"  he  said 
with  courtesy,  "  yet  that  does  not  necessarily  mean  that 
our  friendship  is  to  end  here." 

Her  face  became  transfigured  by  a  sudden  smile,  and 
she  impulsively  extended  her  hand. 

"  Assuredly  not,  if  you  can  withstand  my  vagaries.  I 
have  never  made  friends  easily,  and  am  the  greater  sur 
prised  atmy  unceremonious  frankness  with  you.  Yet  that 
only  makes  it  harder  to  yield  up  a  friendship  when  once 
formed.  Do  you  intend,  then,  to  remain  with  the  com 
pany?  I  have  no  choice,  but  you  have  the  whole  world." 

"Yet,  my  intense  devotion  to  the  art  of  the  Thespian 
holds  me  captive." 

Their  eyes  met  smilingly,  and  the  next  instant  the 
door  closed  quietly  between  them. 

[48] 


A    BREAKING    OF    ICE 

Winston  turned  aside  and  entered  the  gloomy  hotel 
office,  feeling  mentally  unsettled,  undetermined  in 
regard  to  his  future  conduct.  Miss  Norvell  had  proven 
frankly  intimate,  delightfully  cordial,  yet  overshadowing 
it  all  there  remained  unquestionably  a  certain  constraint 
about  both  words  and  actions  which  continued  to  per 
plex  and  tantalize.  She  had  something  in  her  past  life 
to  conceal ;  she  did  not  even  pretend  to  deceive  him 
in  this  regard,  but  rather  held  him  off  with  deliberate 
coolness.  The  very  manner  in  which  this  had  been 
accomplished  merely  served  to  stimulate  his  eagerness 
to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  her  reserve,  and  caused  him 
to  consider  her  henceforth  as  altogether  differing  from 
other  girls.  She  had  become  a  problem,  an  enigma, 
which  he  would  try  to  solve ;  and  her  peculiar  nature, 
baffling,  changeable,  full  of  puzzling  moods,  served  to 
fascinate  his  imagination,  to  invite  his  dreaming.  A 
strange  thrill  swept  him  when  he  caught  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  white  skirt  and  well-turned  ankle  as  she  ran 
swiftly  up  the  steep  staircase,  yet,  almost  at  the  same 
instant,  he  returned  to  earth  with  a  sudden  shock, 
facing  Mooney,  when  the  latter  turned  slowly  away 
from  the  window  and  sneeringly  confronted  him. 
The  mottled  face  was  unpleasantly  twisted,  a  half- 
smoked  cigar  tilted  between  his  lips.  An  instant  the 
half-angry  eyes  of  the  two  men  met. 

"Must  have  made  a  conquest,  from  all  appearances," 
ventured  the  leading  man  with  a  knowing  wink. 
"Not  so  damned  hard  to  catch  on  with,  is  she,  when 
the  right  man  tries  it?" 

There  was  a  swift,  passionate  blow,  a  crash  among 

[49] 


BETH    NORVE  LL 

the  overturned  chairs,  and  Mooney,  dazed  and  trem 
bling,  gazed  up  from  the  floor  at  the  rigid,  erect  figure 
towering  threateningly  above  him,  with  squared  shoul 
ders  and  clenched  fists. 

"  Utter  another  word  like  that,  you  cur,"  said  Win 
ston,  sternly,  "and  I  '11  break  your  head.  Don't  you 
dare  doubt  that  I  '11  keep  my  word." 

For  a  breathless  moment  he  stood  there,  glowering 
down  at  the  shrinking  wretch  on  the  floor.  Then,  his 
face,  still  set  and  white  with  passion,  he  turned  con 
temptuously  away.  Mooney,  cursing  cowardly  behind 
his  teeth,  watched  him  ascend  the  stairs,  but  the  younger 
man  never  so  much  as  glanced  below. 


[50] 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  NEW  DEAL  OF  THE  CARDS 

FOR  the  two  performances  following  there  occurred 
an  enforced  shift  of  actors,  owing  to  Mr.  Mooney 's 
being  somewhat  indisposed ;  and  Winston,  aided 
by  considerable  prompting  from  the  others,  succeeded 
in  getting  through  his  lines,  conscious  of  much  good- 
natured  guying  out  in  front,  and  not  altogether  insen 
sible  to  Miss  Norvell's  efforts  not  to  appear  amused. 
This  experience  left  him  in  no  pleasanter  frame  of 
mind,  while  a  wish  to  throw  over  the  whole  thing 
returned  with  renewed  temptation.  Why  not?  What 
was  he  continuing  to  make  such  a  fool  of  himself  for, 
anyhow?  He  was  assuredly  old  enough  to  be  done 
with  chasing  after  will-o'-the-wisps ;  and  besides,  there 
was  his  constant  liability  to  meet  some  old  acquaint 
ance  who  would  blow  the  whole  confounded  story 
through  the  Denver  clubs.  The  thought  of  the  prob 
able  sarcasm  of  his  fellows  made  him  wince.  More 
over,  he  was  himself  ashamed  of  his  actions.  This 
actress  was  nothing  to  him ;  he  thoroughly  convinced 
himself  of  that  important  fact  at  least  twenty  times 
a  day.  She  was  a  delightful  companion,  bright,  witty, 
full  of  captivating  character,  attractively  winsome,  to  be 
sure,  yet  it  was  manifestly  impossible  for  him  ever  to 
consider  her  in  any  more  serious  way.  This  became 
sufficiently  clear  to  his  reasoning,  yet,  at  the  same  time, 

[50 


BETH    NORVELL 

he  could  never  quite  break  free.  She  seldom  appeared 
to  him  twice  the  same  —  proving  as  changeable  as  the 
winds,  her  very  nature  seeming  to  vary  with  a  sudden 
ness  which  never  permitted  his  complete  escape  from 
her  fascinations,  but  left  him  to  surmise  how  she  would 
greet  him  next.  Frank  or  distant,  filled  with  unre 
strained  gayety  or  dignified  by  womanly  reserve, 
smiling  or  grave,  the  changeable  vagaries  of  Miss 
Norvell  were  utterly  beyond  his  guessing,  while  back 
of  all  these  outward  manifestations  of  tantalizing  per 
sonality,  there  continually  lurked  a  depth  of  hidden 
womanhood,  which  as  constantly  baffled  his  efforts  at 
fathoming.  It  piqued  him  to  realize  his  own  help 
lessness,  to  comprehend  how  completely  this  girl 
turned  aside  his  most  daring  efforts  at  uncovering  the 
true  trend  of  her  heart  and  life.  She  refused  to  be 
read,  wearing  her  various  masks  with  a  cool  defiance 
which  apparently  bespoke  utter  indifference  to  his 
good  opinion,  while  constantly  affording  him  brief, 
tantalizing  glimpses  into  half-revealed  depths  that 
caused  his  heart  to  throb  with  anticipation  never 
entirely  realized. 

It  did  not  once  occur  to  his  mind  that  such  artifices 
might  be  directed  as  much  toward  herself  as  him ;  he 
lacked  the  conceit  which  could  have  convinced  him 
that  they  merely  marked  a  secret  struggle  for  mastery, 
a  desperate  effort  to  crush  an  inclination  to  surrender 
before  the  temptation  of  the  moment.  It  was  a 
battle  for  deliverance  being  fought  silently  behind  a 
mask  of  smiles,  an  exchange  of  sparkling  commonplace ; 
yet  ever  beneath  this  surface  play  she  was  breathing  a 

[5*] 


A    NEW    DEAL    OF    THE    CARDS 

fervent  prayer  that  he  would  go  away  of  his  own  voli 
tion  and  leave  her  free.  Far  more  clearly  than  he,  the 
woman  recognized  the  utter  impossibility  of  any  serious 
purpose  between  them,  and  she  fought  his  advances 
with  every  weapon  in  her  armory,  her  very  soul  trem 
bling  behind  the  happy  smiling  of  her  lips.  It  was 
bravely  attempted,  and  yet  those  dull  weapons  of 
defence  served  merely  to  increase  his  interest,  to  awaken 
his  passion,  and  thus  bind  him  more  strongly  to  her. 
Safe  once  again  from  general  observation,  he  returned 
to  the  obscurity  of  the  wings  and  to  the  routine  handling 
of  trunks  and  scenery,  feeling  totally  unable  to  permit 
her  to  pass  entirely  out  of  his  life.  Within  her  own 
room  she  dampened  her  pillow  with  tears  of  regret  and 
remorse,  yet  finally  she  sank  to  sleep  strangely  happy 
because  he  lingered.  It  was  the  way  of  a  woman;  it 
was  no  less  the  way  of  a  man. 

It  was  thus  that  the  "  Heart  of  the  World  "  players 
came  to  fulfil  their  engagement  at  San  Juan  upon  a 
Saturday  night.  This  was  the  liveliest  camp  in  all 
that  mountain  region,  a  frantic,  feverish,  mushroom 
city  of  tents  and  shacks,  sprawling  frame  business 
blocks,  and  a  few  ugly  brick  abominations,  perched 
above  the  golden  rocks  of  the  Vila  Valley,  bounded  on 
one  side  by  the  towering  cliffs,  on  the  other  by  the 
pitiless  desert.  In  those  days  San  Juan  recognized 
no  material  distinction  between  midnight  and  noon 
day.  All  was  glitter,  glow,  life,  excitement  along  the 
streets ;  the  gloomy  overhanging  mountains  were  pour 
ing  untold  wealth  into  her  lap,  while  vice  and  crime, 
ostentation  and  lawlessness,  held  high  carnival  along  the 


BETH    NORVELL 

crowded,  straggling  byways.  The  exultant  residents 
existed  to-day  in  utter  carelessness  of  the  morrow,  their 
one  dominant  thought  gold,  their  sole  acknowledged 
purpose  those  carnal  pleasures  to  be  purchased  with 
it.  Everything  was  primitive,  the  animal  yet  in  full 
control, — the  drinking,  laughing,  fighting  animal,  filled 
with  passion  and  blood-lust,  worshipping  bodily  strength, 
and  governed  by  the  ideals  of  a  frontier  society  wherein 
the  real  law  hung  dangling  at  the  hip.  Saloons,  gam 
bling  halls,  dance  halls,  and  brothels  flaunted  them 
selves  shamelessly  upon  every  hand;  the  streets 
exhibited  one  continual  riot,  while  all  higher  life  was 
seemingly  rendered  inactive  by  inordinate  grasping  after 
wealth,  and  reckless  squandering  of  it  on  appetite 
and  vice ;  over  all,  as  if  blazoned  across  the  blue  sky, 
appeared  the  ever-recurring  motto  of  careless  humanity, 
"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  ye  die." 
Hardly  a  week  before  a  short  railroad  spur  had  been  con 
structed  up  the  narrow,  rock-guarded  valley  from  Bol- 
ton  Junction,  eighteen  miles  to  the  northward,  and 
over  those  uneven  rails  the  "Heart  of  the  World" 
troupe  of  adventurous  strollers  arrived  at  San  Juan,  to 
find  lodgment  in  that  ramshackle  pile  of  boards  known 
locally  as  the  "  Occidental  Hotel." 

The  San  Juan  Opera  House,  better  known  as  the 
Gayety,  was  in  truth  merely  an  adjunct  to  the  Poodle- 
Dog  Saloon,  the  side-doors  from  the  main  floor  open 
ing  directly  into  the  inviting  bar-room,  while  those 
in  the  gallery  afforded  an  equally  easy  egress  into 
the  spacious  gambling  apartments  directly  above. 
It  was  a  monstrous  ugly  building,  constructed  entirely 

[54] 


A    NEW    DEAL    OF    THE    CARDS 

of  wood  most  hastily  prepared ;  the  stage  was  utilized 
both  night  and  day  for  continuous  variety  entertain 
ments  of  the  kind  naturally  demanded  by  the  motley 
gathering.  These,  however,  were  occasionally  sus 
pended  to  make  room  for  some  adventurous  travelling 
company  to  appear  in  the  legitimate  drama,  but  at  the 
close  of  every  evening  performance  the  main  floor  was 
promptly  cleared,  the  rows  of  chairs  pushed  hastily 
back  from  the  centre,  and  the  space  thus  vacated  util 
ized  for  a  general  dance,  which  invariably  continued 
until  dawn. 

When  the  drop-curtain  slowly  rose  that  Saturday 
evening  fully  three  thousand  people  crowded  the  hall, 
eager  for  any  fresh  excitement;  and  ready  enough 
either  to  taunt  or  applaud  a  performer,  as  the  whim 
moved  them.  Bearded  miners  conspicuous  in  red 
shirts ;  cattlemen  wearing  wide  sombreros  and  hairy 
"chaps";  swarthy  Mexicans  lazily  purring  the  insepa 
rable  cigarette ;  gamblers  attired  in  immaculate  linen, 
together  with  numerous  women  gaudy  of  cheek  and 
attire,  composed  a  frontier  audience  full  of  possibilities. 
The  result  might  easily  prove  good  or  evil,  accord 
ing  to  the  prevailing  temper,  but  fortunately  the 
"  Heart  of  the  World  "  quickly  caught  the  men's  fancy, 
the  laughter  ringing  loud  in  appreciation  of  Mr.  Lane's 
ardent  buffoonery,  while  the  motley  crowd  sat  in  sur 
prised  silence  evincing  respect,  as  Miss  Norvell 
drove  home  to  their  minds  the  lesson  of  a  woman's 
sorrow  and  struggle  against  temptation.  It  was 
well  worth  while  looking  out  across  the  oil-lamp 
footlights  upon  those  hard-faced,  bearded  men,  those 

[55] 


BETH    NORVELL 

gaudily  attired  women,  thus  held  and  controlled  by 
perfectly  depicted  emotion,  the  vast  audience  so  silent 
that  the  click  of  the  wheel,  the  rattle  of  ivory  chips 
in  the  rooms  beyond,  became  plainly  audible.  There 
was  inspiration  in  it  likewise,  and  never  before  did 
Beth  Norvell  more  clearly  exhibit  her  native  power, 
her  spark  of  real  genius. 

Winston  found  little  to  do  in  his  department  that 
night,  either  on  or  off  the  stage,  as  the  company  expected 
to  spend  Sunday  in  the  place.  Consequently,  he 
was  only  slightly  behind  the  other  members  of  the 
troupe  in  attaining  the  hotel  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
evening's  performance.  Indeed,  he  was  earlier  than 
many,  for  most  of  the  male  members  had  promptly 
adjourned  to  the  convenient  bar-room,  with  whatsoever 
small  sums  of  money  they  could  wring  from  out  the 
reluctant  palm  of  Albrecht.  Winston  chanced  to 
pause  for  a  moment  at  the  cigar  stand  to  exchange  a 
pleasant  good-night  word  with  the  seemingly  genial 
clerk. 

"You  one  of  the  actors?"  questioned  the  latter, 
exhibiting  some  slight  interest. 

The  young  man  nodded  indifferently,  not  feeling 
unduly  proud  of  the  distinction. 

"Sorry  I  couldn't  have  been  there,"  the  other  went 
on  cordially.  "The  boys  tell  me  you  gave  'em  a 
mighty  fine  show,  but  I  'm  here  to  bet  that  some  of 
your  people  wish  they  'd  steered  clear  of  San  Juan." 

"How's  that?" 

"Why,  that  fat  fellow — what 's  his  name?— oh,  yes, 
Albrecht  —  the  sheriff  was  in  here  hunting  him  with 


A    NEW    DEAL    OF    THE    CARDS 

some  papers  he  had  to  serve,  and  it  would  have  made 
you  laugh  just  to  see  that  duck  climb  out  when  I  met 
him  yonder  on  the  street  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  gave 
him  the  highball.  Guest  of  the  house,  you  know,  and 
we  did  n't  want  him  pinched  in  here  ;  besides,  we  under 
stood  he  carried  the  scads  for  the  rest  of  your  bunch, 
and  we  naturally  wanted  our  share.  The  sheriff's  out 
tryin'  to  find  him  now ;  but  Lord !  the  fellow  's  safe 
enough  out  of  the  county  by  this  time,  if  he  skipped 
the  way  I  advised  him  he  'd  better.  There  was  an 
extra  ore  train  goin'  down  to  Bolton  to-night,  and  he 
just  had  time  to  catch  it  on  the  run." 

The  dramatic  situation  slowly  dawned  on  Winston 
while  the  clerk  was  speaking. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  Albrecht  has  actually 
skipped  out?"  he  questioned,  anxiously.  "Did  he 
leave  any  money?" 

"Sure;  he  paid  your  folks'  board  till  Monday. 
You  bet  I  looked  after  that." 

"Board  till  Monday!"  and  Winston  totally  forgot 
himself.  "That  is  n't  salary,  man;  there  is  something 
infernally  dirty  about  this  whole  deal.  Why,  he  took 
in  over  three  thousand  dollars  to-night,  and  he's  got 
all  of  that,  and  at  least  a  week's  receipts  besides — the 
infernal  cur!  Was  he  alone?" 

"Tall  fellow  with  clipped  black  moustache,  and  bald 
head." 

"Lane;  I  expected  as  much;  they're  birds  of  a 
feather.  When  can  they  get  out  of  the  Junction?" 

"Well,  the  first  train  scheduled  goes  east  at  four 
o'clock,  but  it 's  generally  late." 

[57] 


BETH  NORVELL 

Winston  walked  twice  across  the  floor,  alternately 
swearing  and  thinking. 

"Is  there  any  way  I  could  get  there  before  that 
time?"  he  questioned,  finally,  his  square  jaw  setting 
firm. 

"Well,  I  reckon  you  might,  by  goin'  hossback 
across  the  old  trail,  but  you  'd  need  to  have  a  guide  in 
the  dark,  and  you  'd  find  it  a  hell  of  a  hard  ride." 

The  young  engineer  stood  a  moment  staring  out 
of  the  window  into  the  night.  The  street  was  well 
illumined  by  the  numerous  saloon  lights,  and  he  could 
perceive  scattering  flakes  of  snow  in  the  air,  blown 
about  by  the  gusty  wind.  He  no  longer  felt  the  slight 
est  doubt  regarding  Albrecht's  desertion,  and  a  wave 
of  indignation  swept  over  him.  He  did  not  greatly  care 
himself  regarding  the  small  amount  of  money  due  for 
his  services,  but  it  was  a  dirty,  contemptible  trick,  and 
he  resented  being  so  easily  made  the  victim  of  such 
a  scheme.  Suddenly  he  wondered  how  this  unexpected 
occurrence  might  affect  the  others.  With  one  of  them 
alone  in  mind  he  strode  back  to  the  counter,  his  teeth 
clinched  savagely. 

"What  is  the  number  of  Miss  Norvell's  room?" 

"Fifty-four — first  door  to  the  right  of  the  stairs." 

He  took  the  steep  flight  of  steps  at  a  run,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  dimly  reflected  light  shining  through  the 
closed  transom,  and  rapped  sharply.  There  was  a 
hurried  movement  within,  and  her  voice  spoke. 

"What  is  wanted?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Winston,  and  I  must  speak  with  you  at 
once." 

[58] 


A    NEW    DEAL    OF    THE    CARDS 

His  tone  was  sufficiently  low  and  earnest  to  make 
her  realize  instantly  some  grave  emergency.  Without 
hesitation  the  door  was  held  open,  and  she  stood  before 
him  in  the  faint  light  of  the  single  lamp,  wearing  a 
fleecy  white  wrapper,  her  dark  hair  partially  disar 
ranged,  her  eyes  seeking  his  own  in  bewilderment. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Are  you  aware  that  both  Albrecht  and  Lane  have 
skipped  out?" 

"Why,  no,"  her  cheeks  suddenly  paling,  her  fingers 
clasping  the  edge  of  the  door.  "Do  you  mean  they 
have  deserted  us  here  to — to  take  care  of  ourselves?" 

He  nodded.  "Yes,  that 's  about  it.  What  I  came 
to  ask  was,  does  that  fellow  owe  you  any  money?" 

For  an  instant  she  hesitated,  as  if  in  lingering  dis 
trust  of  his  exact  purpose,  her  lips  parted,  her  face 
still  plainly  picturing  the  shock  of  discovery. 

"  What  difference  can  that  possibly  make  now  ? 
Why  do  you  require  to  know? " 

"  Because  I  half  believe  you  have  been  left  penni 
less.  Albrecht  has  not  even  spoken  about  any  pay  to 
me  since  I  joined  the  company;  and  when  I  learned 
he  had  deliberately  left  us  stalled  here,  my  first  thought 
was  of  your  unpleasant  situation  if  my  suspicions 
proved  true." 

"  If  they  were,  what  is  there  you  can  do  ?  " 

"The  hotel  clerk  says  it  is  possible  to  reach  the 
Junction  on  horseback  before  any  trains  leave  there 
on  the  main  line.  I  propose  to  make  him  disgorge, 
but  I  must  know  first  exactly  how  things  stand. 
Have  you  any  money  ?  " 

[59] 


BETH    NORVELL 

She  stood  gazing  at  him,  her  anger,  shame,  all  for 
gotten  in  the  fascination  of  Winston's  determined  face. 
For  the  first  time  she  thoroughly  comprehended  the 
cool,  compelling  power  of  this  man,  and  it  mastered 
her  completely.  She  felt  no  longer  the  slightest  doubt 
of  what  he  purposed  doing,  and  her  woman  heart 
swelled  responsively  to  his  masculine  strength. 

"I  —  I  haven't  got  a  dollar,"  she  confessed  simply, 
her  lashes  drooping  over  her  lowered  eyes. 

"What  does  that  fellow  owe  you?" 

"  Two  hundred  and  sixty  dollars ;  he  has  merely 
dribbled  out  what  little  I  have  been  actually  compelled 
to  ask  for." 

A  moment  he  remained  standing  there,  breathing 
hard.  Once  she  ventured  to  glance  up  inquiringly, 
only  to  catch  his  stern  eyes,  and  as  instantly  lower 
her  own. 

"All  right,  Miss  Norvell,"  he  said  finally,  the  words 
seeming  fairly  to  explode  from  between  his  lips.  "  I 
understand  the  situation  now,  and  you  are  to  remain 
here  until  I  come  back.  I  '11  get  your  money,  don't 
fear,  if  I  have  to  trail  him  clear  to  Denver,  but  I  '11 
take  what  little  the  miserable  thief  owes  me  out  of  his 
hide." 

The  next  moment  he  was  down  below  in  the  office 
rapidly  preparing  for  action,  and  Miss  Norvell,  leaning 
far  out  across  the  banister,  listened  to  his  quick,  nervous 
words  of  instruction  with  an  odd  thrill  of  pride  that 
left  her  cheeks  crimson. 


[60] 


CHAPTER   V 

IN  OPEN  REBELLION 

H  TT  WUS  about  the  durndest  fight  as  ever  I  see," 
explained  Bill  Hicks  confidentially  to  a  group  of 
his  cronies  in  the  bar-room  of  the  Poodle-Dog, 
while  he  tossed  down  a  glass  of  red  liquor,  and  shook 
the  powdered  snowflakes  from  his  bearskin  coat. 
"  He  wus  a  sorter  slim,  long-legged  chap,  thet  young 
actor  feller  I  showed  the  trail  down  ter  Bolton  ter,  an' 
he  scurcely  spoke  a  word  all  durin'  thet  whol'  blame 
ride.  Search  me,  gents,  if  I  c  'd  git  either  head  er  tail 
outer  jist  whut  he  wus  up  to,  only  thet  he  proposed 
ter  knock  ther  block  off  some  feller  if  he  had  the  good 
luck  ter  ketch  'im.  Somehow,  I  reckoned  he  'd  be 
mighty  likely  ter  perform  the  job,  the  way  his  jaw  set 
an'  his  eyes  flared.  Leastwise,  I  didn't  possess  no 
rip-roarin'  ambition  fer  ter  be  thet  other  feller.  Still, 
I  did  n't  suppose  he  was  no  whirlwind." 

Bill  mechanically  held  out  his  drained  glass,  and, 
warming  up  somewhat,  flung  his  discarded  overcoat 
across  a  vacant  bench,  his  eyes  beginning  to  glow  with 
reawakened  enthusiasm. 

"  But,  by  gory,  he  wus !  He  wus  simply  chain 
lightnin',  thet  kid,  an'  the  way  he  handed  out  his  dukes 
wus  a  sight  fer  sore  eyes.  I  got  onto  the  facts  sorter 
slow  like,  neither  of  us  bein'  much  on  the  converse, 
but  afore  we  hed  reached  Bolton  I  managed  to  savvy 

[6:] 


BETH    NORVELL 

the  most  of  it.  It  seems  thet  feller  Albrecht — the  big, 
cock-eyed  cuss  who  played  Damon,  ye  recollect,  gents 
—  vvus  the  boss  of  the  show.  He  wus  the  Grand 
Moke,  an'  held  the  spuds.  Well,  he  an'  thet  one  they 
call  Lane  jumped  the  ore  train  last  night,  carryin'  with 
'em  'bout  all  the  specie  they'd  been  corrallin'  fer  a 
week  past,  and  started  hot-foot  fer  Denver,  intendin' 
ter  leave  all  them  other  actor  people  in  the  soup. 
This  yere  lad  hed  got  onter  the  racket  somehow,  an' 
say,  he  wus  plumb  mad ;  he  wus  too  damn  mad  ter 
talk,  an'  when  they  git  thet  fur  gone  it's  'bout  time 
fer  the  innocent  spectator  ter  move  back  outen  range. 
So  he  lassoed  me  down  at  Gary's  barn  fer  ter  show 
him  the  ol'  trail,  an'  we  had  one  hell  of  a  night's  ride 
of  it.  But,  gents,  I  would  n't  o'  missed  bein'  thar  fer 
a  heap.  It  was  a  great  scrap,  let  me  tell  you.  We 
never  see  hide  ner  hair  of  thet  Albrecht  or  his  partner 
till  jist  afore  the  main-line  train  pulled  in  goin'  north. 
The  choo-choo  wus  mighty  nigh  two  hours  late,  so  it 
wus  fair  daylight  by  then,  an'  we  got  a  good  sight  o' 
them  two  fellers  a-leggin'  it  toward  the  station  from  out 
the  crick  bottom,  whar  they  'd  been  layin'  low.  They 
wus  both  husky-lookin'  bucks,  an'  I  was  sufficient 
interested  by  then  ter  offer  ter  sorter  hold  one  of 'em 
while  the  kid  polished  off  the  other.  But  Lord!  that 
wan't  his  style,  no  how,  and  he  just  politely  told  me 
ter  go  plumb  ter  hell,  an'  then  waltzed  out  alone  with 
out  nary  a  gun  in  his  fist.  He  wus  purty  white  round 
the  lips,  but  I  reckon  it  wus  only  mad,  fur  thar  wus  n't 
nothin'  weak  about  his  voice,  an'  the  way  he  lambasted 
thet  thief  wus  a  caution  ter  snakes.  Say,  I  Ve  heerd 

[61] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

some  considerable  ornate  language  in  my  time,  but  thet 
kid  had  a  cinch  on  the  dictionary  all  right,  an'  he  read 
them  two  ducks  the  riot  act  good  an'  plenty.  Thet 
long-legged  Lane,  he  did  n't  have  no  sand,  an'  hung 
back  and  did  n't  say  much,  but  the  other  feller  tried 
every  sneakin'  trick  a  thief  knows,  only  he  bucked  up 
agin  a  stone  wall  every  time.  Thet  young  feller  just 
simply  slathered  him ;  he  called  him  every  name  I 
ever  heerd,  an'  some  considerable  others,  an'  finally, 
when  the  train  was  a-pullin'  in,  the  cuss  unlimbered  his 
wad,  an'  began  peelin'  off  the  tens  an'  twenties  till  I 
thought  the  whole  show  wus  over  fer  sure.  But 
Lord!  I  didn't  know  thet  kid — no  more  did  thet 
Albrecht." 

Hicks  wet  his  lips  with  his  tongue,  pausing,  after 
the  manner  of  a  good  raconteur ',  to  gaze  calmly  about 
upon  the  faces  of  his  auditors. 

"  I  could  n't  see  jist  how  much  the  feller  disgorged, 
but  he  wus  almighty  reluctant  an'  nifty  about  it ;  an' 
then  I  heerd  him  say,  sneerin'-like,  f  Now,  damn  yer, 
how  much  more  do  you  want?'  An',  gents,  what  do 
yer  think  thet  actor  kid  did  ?  Cop  ther  whole  blame 
pile?  Not  on  yer  whiskers,  he  didn't.  He  jist 
shoved  them  scads  what  hed  been  given  him  careless- 
like  down  inter  his  coat  pocket,  an'  faced  Mister 
Manager.  c  Not  a  dirty  penny,  Albrecht,'  he  said, 
sorter  soft-like  ;  f  I  'm  a-goin'  to  take  whut  yer  owe  me 
out  of  yer  right  now.'  An,'  by  gory,  gents,  he  sure 
did.  I  can't  say  as  how  I  see  much  o'  the  fracas, 
'ceptin'  the  dust,  but  when  thet  long-legged  Lane 
jerked  out  a  pearl-handled  pop-gun  I  jist  naturally 

[63] 


BETH    NORVELL 

rapped  him  over  the  knuckles  with  my  '  45,'  an'  then 
tossed  him  over  inter  the  bunch.  Say,  thet  beat  any 
three-ringed  circus  ever  I  see.  The  kid  he  pounded 
Albrecht's  head  on  the  platform,  occasionally  interestin' 
Lane  by  kickin'  him  in  the  stomick,  while  I  jist  waltzed 
'round  promiscous-like  without  seein'  no  special  occa 
sion  to  take  holt  anywhar.  I  reckon  they  'd  a  been  thar 
yit,  if  the  train  hands  had  n't  pried  'em  apart,  an' 
loaded  the  remains  onter  a  keer.  An'  then  thet  actor 
kid  he  stood  thar  lookin'  fust  at  me,  an'  then  after 
them  keers.  f  Hicks,'  he  panted,  cdid  I  git  fifty  dol 
lars'  worth  ? '  *  I  rather  reckon  ye  did,'  I  said,  thought 
fully,  f  en  maybe  it  mought  be  a  hundred.'  An'  then 
he  laughed,  an'  brushed  the  dust  off  his  clothes.  *A11 
right,  then,'  says  he;  f let's  eat.'  An'  I  never  see  no 
nicer  feller  after  he  got  thet  load  offen  his  mind." 

Winston,  totally  unconscious  that  he  had  thus 
achieved  an  enviable  reputation  in  certain  rather  exclu 
sive  social  circles  of  San  Juan,  proceeded  straight  to 
the  hotel,  pausing  merely  a  moment  in  the  wash-room 
to  make  himself  a  trifle  more  presentable,  tramped  up 
the  stairs,  and  rapped  briskly  at  Miss  Norvell's  door. 
He  was  still  flushed  with  victory,  while  the  natural 
confidence  felt  in  her  appreciation  of  his  efforts  yielded 
him  a  sense  of  exhilaration  not  easily  concealed.  The 
door  was  promptly  opened,  and,  with  her  first  glance, 
she  read  the  success  of  his  mission  pictured  within  his 
face.  As  instantly  her  eyes  smiled,  and  her  hand  was 
extended  in  the  cordiality  of  welcome. 

"  I  can  perceive  without  a  word  being  spoken  that  you 
discoveredy  our  man,"  she  exclaimed,"and  I  am  so  glad ! " 

[64] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  stepping  past,  and  emptying 
his  pockets  on  the  white  coverlet  of  the  bed.  "  There 
is  the  money." 

She  glanced  at  the  pile  doubtfully. 

"What  money? " 

"Why,  yours,  of  course.  The  money  you  told  me 
Albrecht  owed  you." 

She  turned,  somewhat  embarrassed,  her  eyes  upon 
his  surprised  face. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  was  all  you  got  ?  "  she  questioned 
finally.  "  Did  he  send  nothing  for  the  others  ?  Did  n't 
you  know  he  was  equally  in  debt  to  every  member  of 
the  company  ? " 

With  these  words  the  entire  situation  dawned  upon 
him  for  the  first  time.  He  had  been  thinking  only  about 
Miss  Norvell,  and  had  permitted  the  rascally  manager 
to  escape  with  the  greater  portion  of  his  stolen  goods. 
The  realization  of  how  easily  he  had  been  tricked  an 
gered  him,  his  face  darkening.  She  read  the  truth  as 
quickly,  and,  before  he  found  speech  in  explanation, 
had  swept  the  little  pile  of  loose  bills  into  her  lap. 

"Wait  here  a  moment,  please,"  she  exclaimed 
quickly;  "I  shall  be  right  back." 

He  remained  as  bidden,  wondering  dimly  as  to  her 
purpose,  yet  her  brief  absence  yielded  but  little  oppor 
tunity  for  thought.  He  met  her  at  the  door  with  an 
indignantly  suspicious  question: 

"What  have  you  been  doing?  Surely,  you  have  n't 
given  all  that  money  away?  " 

The  girl  smiled,  a  gleam  of  defiance  visible  in  the 
uplifted  eyes. 

[65] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"Every  cent  of  it.  Why,  what  else  could  I  do? 
They  actually  have  nothing,  and  must  get  back  to 
Denver  or  starve." 

For  an  instant  he  completely  lost  his  self-control. 

"Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  first?"  he  asked  sharply. 
"  Did  you  suppose  I  collected  my  own  money,  and 
could  therefore  meet  your  expenses  ?  " 

He  never  forgot  the  expression  which  swept  instantly 
into  her  face  —  the  quick  indignation  that  leaped  from 
the  depths  of  those  dark  eyes. 

"  I  was  not  aware  I  had  ever  requested  any  help 
from  Mr.  Winston,"  she  returned  clearly,  her  slight 
form  held  erect.  "Your  following  after  Albrecht  was 
entirely  voluntary,  but  I  naturally  presumed  the  money 
you  brought  back  belonged  to  me.  You  said  it  did, 
and  hence  I  supposed  it  could  be  disposed  of  at  my 
own  discretion." 

"You  have  exhibited  none." 

"That  would  seem  to  depend  entirely  upon  the 
point  of  view.  Until  I  request  your  aid,  however, 
your  criticism  is  not  desired." 

Both  voice  and  manner  were  so  cold  that  they  were 
equivalent  to  dismissal,  but  Winston  hesitated,  already 
beginning  to  regret  the  bitter  harshness  of  his  speech. 
Beneath  his  steady  gaze  her  cheeks  flamed  hotly. 

"We  have  been  friends,"  he  began  more  humbly. 
"Would  you  mind  telling  me  something  regarding 
your  plans?  Just  now  I  feel  unable  to  offer  you 
either  aid  or  advice." 

Her  face  perceptibly  brightened,  as  if  this  new  mood 
quickly  appealed'  to  her. 

[66] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

"That  sounds  ever  so  much  better,"  she  admitted, 
glancing  up  into  his  face.  "  I  have  never  enjoyed 
being  scolded,  as  though  I  were  a  child  who  had  done 
wrong.  Besides,  I  am  quite  convinced  in  this  case  I 
have  done  precisely  right.  I  think  you  would  admit 
it  also  if  you  only  had  patience  to  hear  my  story. 
I  know  exactly  what  I  intend  doing,  or  I  should  never 
have  given  all  that  money  away.  I  have  an  engage 
ment." 

"An  engagement?  Where?  Is  there  another  troupe 
playing  here  ? " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  her  hands  clasped. 

"  No,  not  in  the  sense  you  mean  ;  not  the  legitimate. 
I  am  going  to  appear  at  the  Gayety." 

Winston  stood  grasping  the  back  of  the  chair,  star 
ing  straight  at  her,  his  body  motionless.  For  an 
instant  he  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feel 
ing,  a  vague  distrust  of  her  true  character,  a  doubt 
of  the  real  nature  of  this  perverse  personality.  Such 
a  resolution  on  her  part  shocked  him  with  its  reckless 
ness.  Either  she  did  not  in  the  least  appreciate  what 
such  action  meant,  or  else  she  woefully  lacked  in 
moral  judgment.  Slowly  those  shadowed  dark  eyes 
were  uplifted  to  his  face,  as  if  his  very  silence  had 
awakened  alarm.  Yet  she  merely  smiled  at  the 
gravity  of  his  look,  shaking  her  dark  hair  in  coquet 
tish  disdain. 

"  Again  you  apparently  disapprove,"  she  said  with 
pretence  of  carelessness.  "  How  easily  I  succeed  in 
shocking  you  to-day!  Really,  a  stranger  might  imag 
ine  I  was  under  particular  obligations  to  ask  your 

[67] 


BETH    NORVELL 

permission  for  the  mere  privilege  of  living.  We  have 
known  each  other  by  sight  for  all  of  two  weeks,  and 
yet  your  face  already  speaks  of  dictation.  Evidently 
you  do  not  like  the  Gayety." 

"No;  do  you?" 

"  I  ?  "  she  replied  doubtfully,  with  a  slight  movement 
of  the  body  more  expressive  than  words.  "There  are 
times  when  necessity,  rather  than  taste,  must  control 
the  choice.  But  truly,  since  you  ask  the  question,  I  do 
not  like  the  Gayety.  It  is  far  too  noisy,  too  dirty,  too 
gaudy,  and  too  decidedly  primitive.  But  then,  beggars 
may  not  always  be  choosers,  you  know.  I  am  no 
bright,  scintillating  cstar';  I  am  not  even  a  mining 
engineer  possessing  a  bank  account  in  Denver;  I  am 
merely  an  unknown  professional  actress,  temporarily 
stranded,  and  the  good  angel  of  the  Gayety  offers  me 
twenty  dollars  a  week.  That  is  my  answer." 

The  young  man  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  fair  hair, 
his  teeth  meeting  firmly. 

"  There  is  no  f  good  angel '  of  the  Gayety  —  the  very 
atmosphere  of  that  place  would  soil  an  angel's  wing,"  he 
exclaimed  hotly.  "  Besides,  you  are  not  driven  by  neces 
sity  to  any  such  choice.  There  is  another  way  out.  As 
you  gently  suggested,  I  am  a  mining  engineer  possessing 
a  bank  account  at  Denver.  I  will  most  gladly  draw  a 
sight  draft  to-morrow,  and  pay  your  expenses  back  to 
that  city,  if  you  will  only  accept  my  offer.  Is  this  fair  ?  " 

"Perfectly  so;  yet  supposing  I  refuse?" 

"And  deliberately  choose  the  Gayety  instead?" 

"Yes,  and  deliberately  choose  the  Gayety  instead  — 
what  then  ? " 

[68] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

She  asked  the  momentous  question  calmly  enough, 
her  mouth  rigid,  her  eyes  challenging  him  to  speak  the 
whole  truth.  He  moistened  his  dry  lips,  realizing 
that  he  was  being  forced  into  an  apparently  brutal 
bluntness  he  had  sincerely  hoped  to  avoid. 

"Then,"  he  replied,  with  quiet  impressiveness,  "I 
fear  such  deliberate  action  would  forfeit  my  respect." 

She  went  instantly  white  before  the  blow  of  these 
unexpected  words,  her  fingers  clasping  the  door,  her 
eyes  as  full  of  physical  pain  as  if  he  had  struck  her 
with  clinched  hand. 

"Forfeit  your  respect!"  she  echoed,  the  slender 
figure  quivering,  the  voice  tremulous.  "Rather  should 
I  forever  forfeit  my  own,  were  I  to  accept  your  proffer 
of  money."  Her  form  straightened,  a  slight  tinge  of 
color  rising  to  the  cheeks.  "You  totally  mistake  my 
character.  I  have  never  been  accustomed  to  listening 
to  such  words,  Mr.  Winston,  nor  do  I  now  believe  I 
merit  them.  I  choose  to  earn  my  own  living,  and  I 
retain  my  own  self-respect,  even  although  while  doing 
this  I  am  unfortunate  enough  to  forfeit  yours." 

"But,  Miss  Norvell,  do  you  realize  what  the  Gayety 
is?" 

"Not  being  deprived  of  all  my  natural  powers  of 
observation,  I  most  certainly  believe  I  do — we  were 
there  together  last  evening." 

She  puzzled,  confused  him,  outwardly  appearing  to 
trifle  with  those  matters  which  seemed  to  his  mind 
most  gravely  serious.  Yet,  his  was  a  dogged  resolution 
that  would  not  easily  confess  defeat. 

"Miss  Norvell,"  he  began  firmly,  and  in  the  depth 

[69] 


BETH    NOR VELL 

of  his  earnestness  he  touched  her  hand  where  it  yet 
clung  to  the  door,  "I  may,  indeed,  be  presuming 
upon  an  exceedingly  brief  friendship,  but  my  sole 
excuse  must  be  the  very  serious  interest  I  feel  in  you, 
especially  in  your  undoubted  ability  and  future  as  an 
actress.  It  is  always  a  great  misfortune  for  any  man 
to  repose  trust  and  confidence  in  the  character  of  a 
woman,  and  then  suddenly  awaken  to  discover  himself 
deceived.  Under  these  circumstances  I  should  be 
unworthy  of  friendship  did  I  fail  in  plain  speaking.  To 
me,  your  reckless  acceptance  of  this  chance  engagement 
at  the  Gayety  seems  inexpressibly  degrading;  it  is  a 
lowering  of  every  ideal  with  which  my  imagination  has 
heretofore  invested  your  character.  I  am  not  puritan 
ical,  but  I  confess  having  held  you  to  a  higher  plane 
than  others  of  my  acquaintance,  and  I  find  it  hard  to 
realize  my  evident  mistake.  Yet,  surely,  you  cannot 
fully  comprehend  what  it  is  you  are  choosing.  I  was 
with  you  last  night,  true,  but  I  considered  it  no  honor 
to  appear  upon  that  stage,  even  with  the  'Heart  of  the 
World,'  and  it  hurt  me  even  then  to  behold  you  in 
the  midst  of  such  surroundings.  But  deliberately  to 
take  part  in  the  regular  variety  bill  is  a  vastly  more 
serious  matter.  It  is  almost  a  total  surrender  to  evil, 
and  involves  a  daily  and  nightly  association  with  vice 
which  cannot  but  prove  most  repugnant  to  true  woman 
hood.  Surely,  you  do  not  know  the  true  nature  of 
this  place?" 

"Then  tell  it  to  me." 

"I  will,  and  without  any  mincing  of  words.     The 
Gayety  is  a  mere  adjunct  to  the  Poodle-Dog  saloon 

[70] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

and  the  gambling  hell  up-stairs.  They  are  so  closely 
connected  that  on  the  stage  last  evening  I  could  easily 
hear  the  click  of  ivory  chips  and  the  clatter  of  drink 
ing  glasses.  One  man  owns  and  controls  the  entire 
outfit,  and  employs  for  his  variety  stage  any  kind  of 
talent  which  will  please  the  vicious  class  to  which  he 
caters.  All  questioning  as  to  morality  is  thoroughly 
eliminated.  Did  you  comprehend  this?" 

The  young  girl  bowed  slightly,  her  face  as  grave  as 
his   own,   and  again   colorless,   the   whiteness    of  her 
cheeks  a  marked  contrast  to  her  dark  hair. 
"I  understood  those  conditions  fully." 
"And  yet  consented  to  appear  there?" 
She  shook  back  her  slightly  disarranged  hair,  and 
looked  him  directly  in  the  eyes,  every  line  of  her  face 
stamped  with  resolve. 

"Mr.  Winston,  in  the  first  place,  I  deny  your  slight 
est  right  to  question  me  in  this  manner,  or  to  pass 
moral  judgment  upon  my  motives.  I  chance  to  pos 
sess  a  conscience  of  my  own,  and  your  presumption  is 
almost  insulting.  While  you  were  absent  in  pursuit 
of  Albrecht,  the  manager  of  the  Gayety,  having 
chanced  to  learn  the  straits  we  were  in,  called  upon  me 
here  with  his  proposal.  It  appeared  an  honorable 
one,  and  the  offer  was  made  in  a  gentlemanly  man 
ner.  However,  I  did  not  accept  at  the  time,  for  the 
plain  reason  that  I  had  no  desire  whatever  to  appear 
upon  that  stage,  and  in  the  midst  of  that  unpleasant 
environment.  I  decided  to  await  your  return,  and 
learn  whether  such  a  personal  sacrifice  of  pride  would 
be  necessary.  Now,  I  believe  I  recognize  my  duty, 

[71] 


BETH    NORVELL 

and  am  not  afraid  to  perform  it,  even  in  the  face  of 
your  displeasure.  I  am  going  to  deliver  the  parting 
scene  from  the  'Heart  of  the  World,'  and  I  do  not 
imagine  my  auditors  will  be  any  the  worse  for  hearing 
it.  I  certainly  regret  that  the  Gayety  is  an  adjunct  to 
a  saloon;  I  should  greatly  prefer  not  to  appear  there, 
but,  unfortunately,  it  is  the  only  place  offering  me 
work.  I  may  be  compelled  to  sink  a  certain  false 
pride  in  order  to  accept,  but  I  shall  certainly  not  sacri 
fice  one  iota  of  my  womanhood.  You  had  no  cause 
even  to  intimate  such  a  thing." 

"  Possibly  not ;  yet  had  you  been  my  sister  I  should 
have  said  the  same." 

"  Undoubtedly,  for  you  view  this  matter  'entirely 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  polite  world,  from  the  out 
look  of  social  respectability,  where  self  rules  every 
action  with  the  question,  'What  will  others  say?'  So 
should  I  two  years  ago,  but  conditions  have  somewhat 
changed  my  views.  Professional  necessity  can  never 
afford  to  be  quite  so  punctilious,  cannot  always  choose 
the  nature  of  its  environments :  the  nurse  must  care 
for  the  injured,  however  disagreeable  the  task;  the 
newspaper  woman  must  cover  her  assignment,  although 
it  takes  her  amid  filth;  and  the  actress  must  thor 
oughly  assume  her  character,  in  spite  of  earlier  preju 
dices.  The  woman  who  deliberately  chooses  this  life 
must,  sooner  or  later,  adjust  herself  to  its  unpleasant 
requirements;  and  if  her  womanhood  remain  true,  the 
shallow  criticism  of  others  cannot  greatly  harm  her.  I 
had  three  alternatives  in  this  case  —  I  could  selfishly 
accept  my  handful  of  money,  go  to  Denver,  and  leave 

[7*] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

these  other  helpless  people  here  to  suffer;  I  could 
accept  assistance  from  you,  a  comparative  stranger ;  or 
I  could  aid  them  and  earn  my  own  way  by  assuming 
an  unpleasant  task.  I  chose  the  last,  and  my  sense  of 
right  upholds  me." 

Winston  watched  her  earnestly  as  she  spoke,  his 
gray  eyes  brightening  with  unconscious  appreciation, 
his  face  gradually  losing  its  harshness  of  disapproval. 
A  spirit  of  independence  always  made  quick  appeal  to 
his  favor,  and  this  girl's  outspoken  defiance  of  his 
good  opinion  set  his  heart  throbbing.  Back  of  her 
outward  quietness  of  demeanor  there  was  an  untamed 
spirit  flashing  into  life. 

"We  may  never  exactly  agree  as  to  this  question  of 
proprieties,"  he  acknowledged  slowly.  "Yet  I  can 
partially  comprehend  your  position  as  viewed  profes 
sionally.  Am  I,  then,  to  understand  that  your  future 
is  definitely  decided  upon  ?  You  really  purpose  dedi 
cating  your  life  to  dramatic  art?  " 

She  hesitated,  her  quickly  lowered  eyes  betraying  a 
moment  of  embarrassment. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  finally.  "I  am  beginning  to 
find  myself,  to  believe  in  myself." 

"You  expect  to  find  complete  satisfaction  in  this 
way?" 

"Complete?  Oh,  no;  one  never  does  that,  you 
know,  unless,  possibly,  the  ideals  are  very  low;  but 
more  than  I  can  hope  to  find  elsewhere.  Even  now 
I  am  certainly  happier  in  the  work  than  I  have 
been  for  years."  She  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  her 
eyes  pleading.  "  It  is  not  the  glitter,  the  sham,  the 

[73] 


BETH    NORVELL 

applause,"  she  hastened  to  explain, fc  but  the  real  work 
itself,  that  attracts  and  rewards  me  —  the  hidden  labor 
of  fitly  interpreting  character — the  hard,  secret  study 
after  details.  This  has  become  a  positive  passion,  an 
inspiration.  I  may  never  become  the  perfected  artist 
of  which  I  sometimes  dream,  yet  it  must  be  that  I 
have  within  me  a  glimmering  of  that  art.  I  feel  it, 
and  cannot  remain  false  to  it." 

"  Possibly  love  may  enter  to  change  your  plans," 
he  ventured  to  suggest,  influenced  by  the  constantly 
changing  expression  of  her  face. 

She  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  yet  her  lips 
laughed  lightly. 

"  I  imagine  such  an  unexpected  occurrence  would 
merely  serve  to  strengthen  them,"  she  replied  quickly. 
"  I  cannot  conceive  of  any  love  so  supremely  selfish 
as  to  retard  the  development  of  a  worthy  ideal.  But 
really,  there  is  small  need  yet  of  discussing  such  a 
possibility." 

She  stood  aside  as  he  made  a  movement  toward  the 
open  door,  yet,  when  he  had  stepped  forth  into  the 
hall,  she  halted  him  with  a  sudden  question : 

"  Do  you  intend  returning  at  once  to  Denver? " 

"  No,  I  shall  remain  here." 

She  said  nothing,  but  he  clearly  read  a  further 
unasked  question  in  her  face. 

"  I  remain  here,  Miss  Norvell,  while  you  do.  I 
shall  be  among  your  audiences  at  the  Gayety.  I  do 
not  altogether  agree  that  your  choice  has  been  a  cor 
rect  one,  but  I  do  sincerely  believe  in  you, —  in  your 
motives, — and,  whether  you  desire  it  or  not,  I  propose 

[74] 


IN    OPEN    REBELLION 

to  constitute  myself  your  special  guardian.  There  is 
likely  to  be  trouble  at  the  Gayety,  if  any  drunken  fool 
becomes  too  gay." 

With  flushed  cheeks  she  watched  him  go  slowly 
down  the  stairway,  and  there  were  tears  glistening 
within  those  dark  eyes  as  she  drew  back  into  the 
room  and  locked  the  door.  A  moment  she  remained 
looking  at  her  reflected  face  in  the  little  mirror,  her 
fingers  clinched  as  if  in  pain. 

"  Oh,  why  does  n't  he  go  away  without  my  having  to 
tell  him?"  she  cried,  unconsciously  aloud.  "I  — 
I  thought  he  surely  would,  this  time." 


[75] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  "LITTLE  YANKEE"  MINE 

A  WIDE  out-jutting  wall  of  rock,  uneven  and 
precipitous,  completely  shut  off  all  view  toward 
the  broader  valley  of  the  Vila,  as  well  as  of  the 
town  of  San  Juan,  scarcely  three  miles  distant.  Beyond 
its  stern  guardianship  Echo  Canyon  stretched  grim  and 
desolate,  running  far  back  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
gold-ribbed  mountains.  The  canyon,  a  mere  shapeless 
gash  in  the  side  of  the  great  hills,  was  deep,  long, 
undulating,  ever  twisting  .about  like  some  immense 
serpent,  its  sides  darkened  by  clinging  cedars  and 
bunches  of  chaparral,  and  rising  in  irregular  terraces  of 
partially  exposed  rock  toward  a  narrow  strip  of  blue 
sky.  It  was  a  fragment  of  primitive  nature,  as  wild, 
gloomy,  desolate,  and  silent  as  though  never  yet  ex 
plored  by  man. 

A  small  clear  stream  danced  and  sang  over  scattered 
stones  at  the  bottom  of  this  grim  chasm,  constantly 
twisting  and  curving  from  wall  to  wall,  generally  half 
concealed  from  view  by  the  dense  growth  of  overhang 
ing  bushes  shadowing  its  banks.  High  up  along  the 
brown  rock  wall  the  gleam  of  the  afternoon  sun  rested 
warm  and  golden,  but  deeper  down  within  those  dis 
mal,  forbidding  depths  there  lingered  merely  a  purple 
twilight,  while  patches  of  white  snow  yet  clung  desper 
ately  to  the  steep  surrounding  hills,  or  showered  in 

[76] 


THE    "LITTLE     YANKEE"    MINE 

powdery  clouds  from  off  the  laden  cedars  whenever 
the  disturbing  wind  came  soughing  up  the  gorge. 
Early  birds  were  beginning  to  flit  from  tree  to  tree, 
singing  their  welcome  to  belated  Springtime ;  a  fleecy 
cloud  lazily  floating  far  overhead  gave  deeper  back 
ground  to  the  slender  strip  of  over-arching  blue.  It 
all  combined  to  form  a  nature  picture  of  primeval 
peace,  rendered  peculiarly  solemn  by  those  vast  ranges 
of  overshadowing  mountains,  and  more  deeply  impres 
sive  by  the  grim  silence  and  loneliness,  the  seemingly 
total  absence  of  human  life. 

Yet  in  this  the  scene  was  most  deceptive.  Neither 
peace  nor  loneliness  lurked  amid  those  sombre  rock 
shadows;  over  all  was  the  dominance  of  men  —  primi 
tive,  fighting  men,  rendered  almost  wholly  animal  by 
the  continued  hardships  of  existence,  the  ceaseless 
struggle  after  gold.  The  vagrant  trail,  worn  deep 
between  rocks  by  the  constant  passage  of  men  and 
mules,  lay  close  beside  the  singing  water,  while  here 
and  there  almost  imperceptible  branches  struck  off  to 
left  or  right,  running  as  directly  as  possible  up  the 
terraced  benches  until  the  final  dim  traces  were  com 
pletely  lost  amid  the  low-growing  cedars.  Each  one 
of  these  led  as  straight  as  nature  would  permit  to 
some  specific  spot  where  men  toiled  incessantly  for  the 
golden  dross,  guarding  their  claims  with  loaded  rifles, 
while  delving  deeper  and  deeper  beneath  the  mysteri 
ous  rocks,  ever  seeking  to  make  their  own  the  secret 
hoards  of  the  world's  great  storehouse.  Countless 
centuries  were  being  rudely  unlocked  through  the 
ceaseless  toil  of  pick  and  shovel,  the  green  hillsides 

[77] 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

torn  asunder  and  disfigured  by  ever-increasing  piles  of 
debris,  while  eager-eyed  men  struggled  frantically  to 
obtain  the  hidden  riches  of  the  rocks.  Here  and  there 
a  rudely  constructed  log  hut,  perched  with  apparent 
recklessness  upon  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  told  the 
silent  story  of  a  claim,  while  in  other  places  the  smoul 
dering  remains  of  a  camp-fire  alone  bespoke  primitive 
living.  Yet  every  where  along  that  upper  terrace,  where 
in  places  the  seductive  gold  streak  lay  half  uncovered 
to  the  sun,  were  those  same  yawning  holes  leading  far 
down  beneath  the  surface ;  about  them  grouped  the 
puny  figures  of  men  performing  the  labors  of  Hercules 
under  the  galling  spur  of  hope. 

On  this  higher  ledge,  slightly  beyond  a  shallow 
intersecting  gorge  shadowed  by  low-growing  cedars, 
two  men  reclined  upon  a  rock-dump,  gazing  carelessly 
off  six  hundred  feet  sheer  down  into  the  gloomy  depths 
of  the  canyon  below.  Just  beyond  them  yawned  the 
black  opening  of  their  shaft-hole,  the  rude  windlass 
outlined  against  the  gray  background  of  rock,  while 
somewhat  to  the  left,  seemingly  overhanging  the  edge 
of  the  cliff,  perched  a  single-roomed  cabin  of  logs  rep 
resenting  home.  This  was  the  "  Little  Yankee " 
claim,  owners  William  Hicks  and  "Stutter"  Brown. 
The  two  partners  were  sitting  silent  and  idle,  a  single 
rifle  lying  between  them  on  the  dump.  Hicks  was 
tall,  lank,  seamed  of  face,  with  twinkling  gray  eyes,  a 
goat's  beard  dangling  at  his  chin  to  the  constant  motion 
of  his  nervous  jaws ;  and  Brown,  twenty  years  his 
junior,  was  a  young,  sandy-haired  giant,  limited  of 
speech,  of  movement,  of  thought,  with  freckled  cheeks 

[78] 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

and  a  downy  little  moustache  of  decidedly  red  hue. 
They  had  been  laboriously  deciphering  a  letter  of  con 
siderable  length  and  peculiar  illegibility,  and  the  slow 
but  irascible  Stutter  had  been  swearing  in  disjointed 
syllables,  his  blue  eyes  glaring  angrily  across  the  gully, 
where  numerous  moving  figures,  conspicuous  in  blue 
and  red  shirts,  were  plainly  visible  about  the  shaft-hole 
of  the  "Independence,"  the  next  claim  below  them  on 
the  ledge.  Yet  for  the  moment  neither  man  spoke 
otherwise.  Finally,  shifting  uneasily,  yet  with  mind 
evidently  made  up  for  definite  action,  Hicks  broke  the 
prolonged  silence. 

"  I  was  thinkin'  it  over,  Stutter,  all  the  way  hoofin' 
it  out  yere,"  he  said,  chewing  continually  on  his 
tobacco,  "  but  sorter  reckoned  ez  how  yer  ought  ter 
see  the  writin'  furst,  considerin'  ez  how  you're  a  full 
partner  in  this  yere  claim.  It  sorter  strikes  me  thet 
the  lawyer  hes  give  us  the  straight  tip  all  right,  an' 
thar  's  no  other  way  fer  gittin'  the  cinch  on  them  ornary 
fellers  over  thar,"  and  the  speaker  waved  his  hand 
toward  the  distant  figures.  "  Yer  see,  it 's  this  yere  way, 
Stutter.  You  an'  I  could  swar,  of  course,  thet  the 
damned  cusses  hed  changed  the  stakes  on  us  more  'n 
onct,  an'  thar  's  no  doubt  in  our  two  minds  but  what 
they  're  a-followin'  out  our  ore-lead  right  now,  afore 
we  kin  git  down  ter  it.  Hell!  of  [course  they  are  — 
they  got  the  fust  start,  an'  the  men,  an'  the  money 
back  of  'em.  We  ain't  got  a  darn  thing  but  our  own 
muscle,  an'  the  rights  of  it,  which  latter  don't  amount 
ter  two  bumps  on  a  log.  Fer  about  three  weeks 
we  Ve  been  watchin'  them  measly  skunks  take  out  our 

[79] 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

mineral,  an'  for  one  I  'm  a-goin'  ter  quit.  I  never  did 
knuckle  down  ter  thet  sort,  an'  I  'm  too  old  now  ter 
begin.  The  lawyer  says  ez  how  we  ain't  got  no  legal 
proof,  an'  I  reckon  it 's  so.  But  I  'm  damned  if  I  don't 
git  some.  Thar  ain't  a  minin'  engineer  in  San  Juan 
that  '11  come  up  yere  fer  us.  Them  fellers  hes  got  'em 
all  on  the  hip;  but  I  reckon,  if  we  hunt  long  'nough, 
we  kin  find  some  feller  in  Colorado  with  nerve  'nough 
to  tackle  this  yere  job,  an'  I  'm  a-goin'  out  gunnin'  for 
jist  that  man." 

He  got  to  his  feet,  his  obstinate  old  eyes  wandering 
across  the  gully,  and  the  younger  man  watched  him 
with  slow  curiosity. 

"How  f-f-far  you  g-g-going,  Bill?"  he  burst  forth 
stutteringly. 

"  Denver,  if  I  need  to,"  was  the  elder's  resolute 
response.  "  I  '11  tell  ye  what  I  'm  a-goin'  ter  do,  Stut 
ter.  I  'm  a-goin'  ter  draw  out  every  blamed  cent  we  Ve 
got  in  the  bank  down  at  San  Juan.  'T  ain't  much  of 
a  pile,  but  I  reckon  it 's  got  ter  do  the  business.  Then 
I  '11  strike  out  an'  hunt  till  I  find  a  minin'  engineer 
thet 's  got  a  soul  of  his  own,  an'  grit  'nough  behind  it 
ter  root  out  the  facts.  I  Ve  been  a-prospectin'  through 
these  here  mountings  fer  thirty  years,  an'  now  thet 
I  Ve  hit  somethin'  worth  havin',  I  'm  hanged  if  I  'm 
a-goin'  ter  lie  down  meek  ez  Moses  an*  see  it  stole 
out  plumb  from  under  me  by  a  parcel  o'  tin-horn 
gamblers.  Not  me,  by  God !  If  I  can't  git  a  cinch  on 
sich  a  feller  ez  I  want,  then  I  '11  come  back  an'  blow  a 
hole  through  that  Farnham  down  at  San  Juan.  I 
reckon  I  '11  go  in  an'  tell  him  so  afore  I  start." 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

The  old  man's  square  jaws  set  ominously,  his  gnarled 
hand  dropping  heavily  on  the  butt  of  the  Colt  dang 
ling  at  his  hip. 

"You  stay  right  yere,  Stutter,  on  the  dump,  and 
don't  yer  let  one  o'  them  measly  sneaks  put  nary  foot 
on  our  claim,  if  yer  have  ter  blow  'em  plumb  ter  hell. 
You  an'  Mike  kin  tend  ter  thet  all  right,  an'  you 
bet  I  'm  goin'  ter  have  some  news  fer  yer  when  I  git 
home,  my  boy." 

He  swung  around,  and  strode  back  along  the  ledge 
to  the  door  of  the  cabin,  reappearing  scarcely  a  moment 
later  with  a  small  bundle  in  his  hand. 

"  Thar  's  'nough  grub  in  thar  ter  last  you  an'  Mike 
fer  a  week  yit,  an'  I  '11  be  back  afore  then,  er  else 
planted.  Adios" 

Brown  sat  up,  his  gun  resting  between  his  knees, 
and  in  silence  watched  his  partner  scrambling  down 
the  steep  trail.  It  was  not  easy  for  him  to  converse, 
and  he  therefore  never  uttered  a  word  unless  the  situ 
ation  demanded  the  sacrifice.  He  could  swear,  how 
ever,  with  considerable  fluency,  but  just  now  even 
that  relief  seemed  inadequate.  Finally,  the  older 
man  disappeared  behind  the  scrub,  and,  except  for 
those  more  distant  figures  about  the  dump  of  the 
"  Independence,"  the  blond  giant  remained  apparently 
alone.  But  Stutter  had  long  ago  become  habituated 
to  loneliness ;  the  one  condition  likely  to  worry  him 
was  lack  of  occupation.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
climbed  the  dump,  until  able  to  lean  far  over  and  look 
down  into  the  black  mouth  of  the  uncovered  shaft. 

"Got  yer  b-b-bucket  full,  M-M-Mike?"  he  ques- 

[81] 


BETH    NORVELL 

tioned,  sending  his  deep,  sputtering  voice  far  down 
into  the  depths  below. 

"  Oi  have  thot,"  came  the  disgusted  response  from 
out  the  darkness.  "Ye  measly  spalpeen,  ain't  Oi  bin 
shakin'  of  the  rope  fer  twinty  minutes?  Oi  tought 
maybe  ye'd  run  off  an'  left  me  to  rot  down  in  the  hole. 
Whut  's  up  now,  ye  freckled-face  ilephant,  yer? " 

Brown  indulged  in  a  cautious  glance  about,  then 
stuck  his  almost  boyish  face  farther  down  within  the 
safety  of  the  hole  before  venturing  an  explanation. 

"  B-B-Bill  's  g-gone  to  find  s-s-some  engi-n-neer 
w-with  nerve  'nough  ter  r-r-run  our  lines,"  he  managed 
to  spit  out  disjointedly.  "  S-s-says  he  '11  go  plumb 
ter  Denver  'fore  he  '11  g-g-give  up,  an'  if  he  d-don't 
f-find  any  sich  he  '11  c-c-come  back  an'  p-p-perforate 
F-F-Farnham." 

"Bedad!"  a  tinge  of  unrestrained  delight  apparent 
in  the  sudden  roar,  "an'  was  he  hot?" 

"H-he  sure  was.  He  m-m-m-meant  business  all 
r-right,  an'  hed  f-f-forty  rounds  b-b-buckled  on 
him.  H-here  goes,  Mike,"  and  Brown  grasped 
the  warped  handle  of  the  windlass  and  began  to  grind 
slowly,  coiling  the  heavy  rope,  layer  upon  layer, 
around  the  straining  drum.  He  brought  the  huge 
ore-bucket  to  the  surface,  dumped  its  load  of  rock 
over  the  edge  of  the  shaft-hole,  and  had  permitted  it 
to  run  down  swiftly  to  the  waiting  Mike,  when  a  slight 
noise  behind  sent  the  man  whirling  suddenly  about, 
his  hand  instinctively  reaching  forth  toward  the  dis 
carded  but  ready  rifle.  A  moment  he  stared,  incredu 
lous,  at  the  strange  vision  fronting  him,  his  face  quickly 

[82] 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

reddening  from  embarrassment,  his  eyes  irresolute  and 
puzzled.  Scarcely  ten  feet  away,  a  woman,  rather 
brightly  attired  and  apparently  very  much  at  her  ease, 
sat  upon  a  rather  diminutive  pony,  her  red  lips  curved 
in  lines  of  laughter,  evidently  no  little  amused  at  thus 
startling  him.  Brown  realized  that  she  was  young  and 
pretty,  with  jet  black,  curling  hair,  and  eyes  of  the 
same  color,  her  skin  peculiarly  white  and  clear,  while 
she  rode  man  fashion,  her  lower  limbs  daintily  encased 
within  leggings  of  buckskin.  She  had  carelessly  dropped 
her  reins  upon  the  high  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  as 
their  glances  fairly  met,  she  laughed  outright. 

"You  mooch  frighten,  senor,  and  you  so  ver'  big. 
It  make  me  joy."  Her  broken  English  was  oddly 
attractive.  "Poof!  los  Americanos  not  all  find  me 
so  ver'  ter'ble." 

Stutter  Brown  ground  his  white  teeth  together  sav 
agely,  his  short  red  moustache  bristling.  He  was  quite 
young,  never  greatly  accustomed  to  companionship 
with  the  gentler  sex,  and  of  a  disposition  strongly 
opposed  to  being  laughed  at.  Besides,  he  felt  seriously 
his  grave  deficiencies  of  speech. 

"I-I-I  was  s-sorter  expectin'  a-a-another  kind  of 
c-c-caller,"  he  stuttered  desperately,  in  explanation, 
every  freckle  standing  out  in  prominence,  "an' 
th-th-thought  m-m-maybe  somebody  'd  g-g-got  the 
d-drop  on  me." 

The  girl  only  laughed  again,  her  black  eyes  spark 
ling.  Yet  beneath  his  steady,  questioning  gaze  her  face 
slightly  sobered,  a  faint  flush  becoming  apparent  in 
either  cheek. 

[83] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"You  talk  so  ver'  funny,  senor;  you  so  big  like  de 
tree,  an'  say  vords  dat  vay;  it  make  me  forget  an'  laf. 
You  moost  not  care  just  for  me.  Pah!  but  it  vas  fight 
all  de  time  vid  you,  was  n't  it,  senor?  Biff,  bang,  kill ; 
ver'  bad,"  and  she  clapped  her  gauntleted  hands 
together  sharply.  "But  not  me;  I  vas  only  girl;  no 
gun,  no  knife — see.  I  just  like  know  more  'bout 
mine — Americano's  mine;  you  show  me  how  it  vork. 
Sabe?" 

Stutter  appeared  puzzled,  doubtful. 

"Mexicana?"  he  questioned,  kicking  apiece  of  rock 
with  his  heavy  boot. 

"Si,  senor,  but  I  speak  de  English  ver'  good.  I 
Mercedes  Morales,  an'  I  like  ver'  much  de  brav' 
Americanos.  I  like  de  red  hair,  too,  senor — in  Mex 
ico  it  all  de  same  color  like  dis,"  and  she  shook  out 
her  own  curling  ebon  locks  in  sudden  shower.  "I 
tink  de  red  hair  vas  more  beautiful." 

Mr.  Brown  was  not  greatly  accustomed  to  having 
his  rather  fiery  top-knot  thus  openly  referred  to  in 
tones  of  evident  admiration.  It  was  a  subject  he 
naturally  felt  somewhat  sensitive  about,  and  in  spite  of 
the  open  honesty  of  the  young  girl's  face,  he  could 
not  help  doubting  for  a  moment  the  sincerity  of  her 
speech. 

"L-l-like  f-fun  yer  do,"  he  growled  uneasily. 
"A-a-anyhow,  whut  are  yer  d-d-doin'  yere?" 

For  answer  she  very  promptly  swung  one  neatly 
booted  foot  over  and  dropped  lightly  to  the  ground, 
thus  revealing  her  slender  figure.  Her  most  notable 
beauty  was  the  liquid  blackness  of  her  eyes. 

[84] 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

"Si,  I  tell  you  all  dat  ver'  quick,  senor,"  she 
explained  frankly,  flipping  the  rock-pile  with  her  rid 
ing  whip,  and  bending  over  to  peer,  with  undisguised 
curiosity,  into  the  yawning  shaft-hole,  "I  ride  out 
from  San  Juan  for  vat  you  call  constitutional  — 
mercy,  such  a  vord,  senor! — an'  I  stray  up  dis  trail. 
See?  It  vas  most  steep,  my,  so  steep,  like  I  slide  off; 
but  de  mustang  he  climb  de  hill,  all  right,  an'  den  I 
see  you,  senor,  an'  know  dere  vas  a  mine  here.  Not  de 
big  mine — bah!  I  care  not  for  dat  kind — but  just 
one  leetle  mine,  vere  I  no  be  'fraid  to  go  down. 
Don  I  look  at  you,  so  big,  vid  de  beautiful  red  hair, 
an'  de  kin'  face,  an'  I  sink  he  vood  let  me  see  how 
dey  do  such  tings — he  vas  nice  fellow,  if  he  vas  all 
mud  on  de  clothes.  Si,  for  I  know  nice  fellow,  do  I 
not,  amigo?  Si,  bueno.  So  you  vill  show  to  me  how 
de  brav'  Americanos  dig  out  de  yellow  gold,  senor?" 

She  flashed  her  tempting  glance  up  into  the  man's 
face,  and  Brown  stamped  his  feet  nervously,  endeavor 
ing  to  appear  stern. 

"  C-c-could  n't  h-hardly  do  it,  m-m-miss.  It's 
t-too  blame  dirty  d-d-down  below  fer  y-your  sort. 
B-b-besides,  my  p-pardner  ain't  yere,  an'  he  m-m- 
might  not  1-like  it." 

"You  haf  de  pardner?     Who  vas  de  pardner?  " 

"  H-h-his  name  's  H-H-Hicks." 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  unrestrained 
delight. 

"  Beell  Heeks?  Oh, senor,  I  know  Beell  Heeks.  He 
vas  ver'  nice  fellow,  too  —  but  no  so  pretty  like  you; 
he  old  man  an'  swear — Holy  Mother,  how  he  swear! 

[85] 


BETH    NORVELL 

He  tol'  me  once  come  out  any  time  an'  see  hees  mine. 
I  not  know  vere  it  vas  before.  Maybe  de  angels  show 
me.  You  vas  vat  Beell  call  Stutter  Brown,  I  tink 
maybe?  Ah,  now  it  be  all  right,  senor.  Bueno !  " 

She  laid  her  gauntleted  hand  softly  on  the  rough 
sleeve  of  his  woollen  shirt,  her  black,  appealing  eyes 
flashing  suddenly  up  into  his  troubled  face. 

"  I  moost  laugh,  senor ;  such  a  brav'  Americano 
'fraid  of  de  girl.  Why  not  you  shoot  me?" 

"A-a-afraid  nothin',"  and  Stutter's  freckled  face 
became  instantly  as  rosy  as  his  admired  hair,  "  b-but  I 
t-tell  ye,  miss,  it 's  a-a-all  d-dirt  down  th-there,  an'  not 
f-f-fit  fer  no  lady  ter  t-t-traipse  round  in." 

The  temptress,  never  once  doubting  her  power, 
smiled  most  bewitchingly,  her  hands  eloquent. 

"You  vas  good  boy,  just  like  I  tink ;  I  wear  dis  ol' 
coat  —  see;  an'  den  I  turn  up  de  skirt,  so.  I  no  'fraid 
de  dirt.  Now,  vat  you  say,  senor?  Bueno?" 

Thus  speaking,  she  seized  upon  the  discarded  and 
somewhat  disreputable  garment,  flung  it  carelessly 
about  her  shapely  shoulders,  shrugging  them  coquet- 
tishly,  her  great  eyes  shyly  uplifting  to  his  relenting 
face,  and  began  swiftly  to  fasten  up  her  already  short 
dress  in  disregard  of  the  exposure  of  trim  ankles. 
The  agitated  Mr.  Brown  coughed,  his  uneasy  glances 
straying  down  the  open  shaft.  He  would  gladly,  and 
with  extreme  promptness,  have  shoved  the  cold  muz 
zle  of  his  Colt  beneath  the  nose  of  any  man  at  such 
moment  of  trial ;  but  this  young  girl,  with  a  glance 
and  a  laugh,  had  totally  disarmed  him.  Disturbed 
conscience,  a  feeling  akin  to  disloyalty,  pricked  him, 

[86] 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

but  the  temptation  left  him  powerless  to  resist  —  those 
black  eyes  held  him  already  captive;  and  yet  in  this 
moment  of  wavering  indecision,  that  teasing  hand 
once  again  rested  lightly  upon  his  shirt-sleeve. 

"  Please  do  dat,  senor,"  the  voice  low  and  pleading. 
"  It  vas  not  ver'  mooch  just  to  let  a  girl  see  your  leetle 
mine.  What  harm,  senor?  But  maybe  it's  so 
because  you  no  like  me?  " 

Startled  by  so  unjust  a  suspicion,  the  eyes  of  the 
young  giant  instantly  revealed  a  degree  of  interest 
which  caused  her  own  to  light  up  suddenly,  her  red 
lips  parting  in  a  quick,  appreciative  smile  which  dis 
closed  the  white  teeth. 

"Ah,  I  see  it  vas  not  dat.  Eet  make  glad  de  heart 
—  make  eet  to  sing  like  de  birds.  Now  I  know  eet 
vill  be  as  I  vish.  How  do  I  get  down,  senor?" 

Thus  easily  driven  from  his  last  weak  entrench 
ments,  his  heart  fluttering  to  the  seduction  of  her 
suggestive  glance,  the  embarrassed  Stutter  made  uncon 
ditional  surrender,  a  gruff  oath  growling  in  his  throat. 
He  leaned  out  over  the  dark  shaft,  his  supporting 
hand  on  the  drum. 

"Come  u-u-up,  M-M-Mike,"  he  called,  rattling 
his  letters  like  castanets.  "  I  w-w-want  to  g-go  d-d- 
down." 

There  followed  a  sound  of  falling  rocks  below,  a 
fierce  shaking  of  the  suspended  rope,  and  then  a 
muffled  voice  sang  out  an  order,  "  H'ist  away,  and  be 
dommed  ter  yer."  Brown  devoted  himself  assidu 
ously  to  the  creaking  windlass,  although  never  able 
entirely  to  remove  his  attention  from  that  bright- 

[87] 


BETH    NORVELL 

robed,  slender  figure  standing  so  closely  at  his  side. 
For  one  brief  second  he  vaguely  wondered  if  she  could 
be  a  witch,  and  he  looked  furtively  aside,  only  to  per 
ceive  her  bright  eyes  smiling  happily  at  him.  Then 
suddenly  a  totally  bald  head  shot  up  through  the 
opening,  a  seamed  face  the  color  of  parchment,  with 
squinting  gray  eyes,  peered  suspiciously  about,  while 
a  gnarled  hand  reached  forth,  grasped  a  post  in  sup 
port,  and  dragged  out  into  the  sunlight  a  short,  sturdy 
body.  Mike  straightened  up,  with  a  peculiar  jerk,  on 
the  dump,  spat  viciously  over  the  edge  of  the  canyon, 
and  drew  a  short,  black  pipe  from  out  a  convenient 
pocket  in  his  shirt.  He  made  no  audible  comment, 
but  stood,  his  back  planted  to  the  two  watchers ;  and 
Stutter  cleared  his  throat  noisily. 

"Th-th-this  1-1-lady  wants  ter  s-s-see  how  v/e 
m-m-mine,"  he  explained  in  painful  embarrassment, 
"  a-an'  I  th-th-thought  I  'd  t-take  her  d-d-down  if 
you  'd  w-work  the  w-w-windlass  a  b-bit." 

Old  Mike  turned  slowly  around  and  fronted  the 
two,  his  screwed-up  eyes  on  the  girl,  while  with  great 
deliberation  he  drew  a  match  along  the  leg  of  his  can 
vas  trousers. 

"Ony thing  to  oblige  ye,"  he  said  gruffly.  "Always 
ready  to  hilp  the  ladies  —  be  me  sowl,  Oi  Ve  married 
three  of  thim  already.  An'  wus  this  Hicks's  orthers, 
Stutter?" 

"N-n-no,  not  exactly,"  Brown  admitted,  with  evi 
dent  reluctance.  "  B-but  ye  s-s-see,  she  's  a  g-great 
friend  o'  B-B-Bill's,  an'  so  I  reckon  it  '11  be  all  r-right. 
Don't  s-see  how  n-no  harm  kin  be  d-d-done." 

[88] 


THE    "LITTLE     YANKEE"    MINE 

The  pessimistic  Michael  slowly  blew  a  cloud  of 
pungent  smoke  into  the  air,  sucking  hard  at  his  pipe- 
stem,  and  laid  his  rough  hands  on  the  windlass 
handle. 

"  None  o'  my  dommed  funeral,  beggin'  yer  pardon, 
miss,"  he  condescended  to  mutter  in  slight  apology. 
"  Long  as  the  pay  goes  on,  Oi  'd  jist  as  soon  work  on 
top  as  down  below.  H'ist  the  female  into  the  bucket, 
ye  overgrown  dood  !  " 

Stutter  Brown,  still  nervous  from  recurring  doubts, 
awkwardly  assisted  his  vivacious  charge  to  attain  safe 
footing,  anxiously  bade  her  hold  firmly  to  the  sway 
ing  rope,  and  stood,  carefully  steadying  the  line 
as  it  slowly  disappeared,  hypnotized  still  by  those  mar 
vellous  black  eyes,  which  continued  to  peer  up  at  him 
until  they  vanished  within  the  darkness.  Leaning  far 
over  to  listen,  the  young  miner  heard  the  bucket  touch 
bottom,  and  then,  with  a  quick  word  of  warning  to  the 
man  grasping  the  handle,  he  swung  himself  out  on  the 
taut  rope,  and  went  swiftly  dov/n,  hand  over  hand. 
Mike,  still  grumbling  huskily  to  himself,  waited  until 
the  windlass  ceased  vibrating,  securely  anchored 
the  handle  with  a  strip  of  raw-hide,  and  composedly 
sat  down,  his  teeth  set  firmly  on  the  pipe-stem,  his 
eyes  already  half  closed.  It  was  an  obstinate,  mulish 
old  face,  seamed  and  creased,  the  bright  sunlight 
rendering  more  manifest  the  leather-like  skin,  the 
marvellous  network  of  wrinkles  about  eyes  and 
mouth.  Not  being  paid  for  thought,  the  old  fellow 
now  contented  himself  with  dozing,  quite  confident  of 
not  being  quickly  disturbed. 

P9] 


BETH    NORVELL 

In  this  he  was  right.  The  two  were  below  for 
fully  an  hour,  while  above  them  Mike  leaned  with 
back  comfortably  propped  against  the  windlass  in 
perfect  contentment,  and  the  hobbled  pony  peacefully 
cropped  the  short  grass  along  the  ledge.  Then  the 
brooding  silence  was  abruptly  broken  by  a  voice  rising 
from  out  the  depths  of  the  shaft,  while  a  vigorous 
shaking  of  the  dangling  rope  caused  the  windlass  to 
vibrate  sharply.  Old  Mike,  with  great  deliberation 
stowing  away  his  pipe,  unslipped  the  raw-hide,  and, 
calmly  indifferent  to  all  else  except  his  necessary  labor, 
slowly  hauled  the  girl  to  the  surface.  She  was  radiant, 
her  eyes  glowing  from  the  excitement  of  unusual  adven 
ture,  and  scrambled  forth  from  the  dangling  bucket 
without  awaiting  assistance.  Before  Brown  attained  to 
the  surface,  the  lady  had  safely  captured  the  straying 
pony  and  swung  herself  lightly  into  the  saddle. 
Squaring  his  broad  shoulders  with  surprise  as  he  came 
out,  his  face  flushed,  his  lips  set  firm,  the  young  giant 
laid  restraining  fingers  on  her  gloved  hand. 

"  Y-y-you  really  m-mean  it  ?  "  he  asked,  eagerly, 
as  though  fearing  the  return  to  daylight  might  already 
have  altered  her  decision.  "  C-can  I  c-call  on  you 
wh-wh-where  you  s-s-said  ?  " 

She  smiled  sweetly  down  at  him,  her  eyes  picturing 
undisguised  admiration  of  his  generous  proportions, 
and  frank,  boyish  face. 

"  Si,  si,  senor.  Sapristi,  why  not?  'T  is  I,  rather, 
who  'fraid  you  forget  to  come." 

"Y-you  n-need  n't  be,"  he  stammered,  coloring. 
"  S-senorita,  I  sh-shall  never  f-f-forget  this  day." 

[90] 


THE    "LITTLE    YANKEE"    MINE 

f< £$uien  sabe? — poof!  no  more  vill  I;  but  now, 
adioS)  senor." 

She  touched  her  pony's  side  sharply  with  the  whip, 
and,  standing  motionless,  Stutter  watched  them  dis 
appear  over  the  abrupt  ledge.  Once  she  glanced  shyly 
back,  with  a  little  seductive  wave  of  the  gauntleted 
hand,  and  then  suddenly  dropped  completely  out  of 
view  down  the  steep  descent  of  the  trail.  Old  Mike 
struck  another  match,  and  held  the  tiny  flame  to  his 
pipe-bowl. 

"An*  it's  hell  ye  played  the  day,"  he  remarked 
reflectively,  his  eyes  glowing  gloomily. 

The  younger  man  wheeled  suddenly  about  and 
faced  him. 

"Wh-what  do  ye  m-m-mean?" 

"  Jist  the  same  whut  I  said,  Stutter.  Ye  're  a  broight 
one,  ye  are.  That 's  the  Mexican  dancer  down  at  the 
Gayety  at  San  Juan,  no  less;  and  it 's  dollars  to  dough 
nuts,  me  bye,  that  that  dom  Farnham  sint  her  out 
here  to  take  a  peek  at  us.  It  wud  be  loike  the  slip 
pery  cuss,  an'  I  hear  the  two  of  thim  are  moighty 
chummy." 

And  Stutter  Brown,  his  huge  fists  clinched  in  anger, 
looked  ofF  into  the  dark  valley  below,  and,  forgetting 
his  affliction  of  speech,  swore  like  a  man. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  DISMISSAL 

THE  far  from  gentle  orchestra  at  the  Gayety  was 
playing  with  a  vivacity  which  set  the  pulses 
leaping,  while  the  densely  packed  audience, 
scarcely  breathing  from  intensity  of  awakened  interest, 
were  focussing  their  eager  eyes  upon  a  slender,  scarlet- 
robed  figure,  an  enveloping  cloud  of  gossamer  floating 
mistily  about  her,  her  black  hair  and  eyes  vividly  con 
trasting  against  the  clear  whiteness  of  her  skin,  as  she 
yielded  herself  completely  to  the  strange  convolutions 
of  her  weird  dance.  The  wide  stage  was  a  yellow  flood 
of  light,  and  she  the  very  witch  of  motion.  This  was 
her  third  encore,  but,  as  wildly  grotesque  as  ever,  her 
full  skirts  shimmering  in  the  glare  of  the  foot-lights, 
her  tripping  feet  barely  touching  the  sanded  floor,  her 
young,  supple  figure,  light  as  a  fairy,  weaving  in  the 
perfect  rhythm  of  music,  the  tireless  child  of  Mexico 
leaped  and  spun,  wheeled  and  twirled, — at  times  appar 
ently  floated  upon  the  very  air,  her  bare  white  arms 
extended,  her  wonderful  eyes  blazing  from  the  exhil 
aration  of  this  moment  of  supreme  triumph. 

Beth  Norvell,  neatly  gowned  for  the  street,  her  own 
more  sedate  performance  already  concluded,  had  paused 
for  a  single  curious  instant  in  the  shadow  of  the  wings, 
and  remained  looking  out  upon  that  scarlet  figure, 
flitting  here  and  there  like  some  tropical  bird,  through 

[9*] 


A    DISMISSAL 

the  gaudy  glare  of  the  stage.  Winston,  waiting 
patiently  for  twenty  minutes  amid  the  denser  gloom 
just  inside  the  stage  door,  watched  the  young  girl's 
unconsciously  interested  face,  wondering  alike  at  both 
himself  and  her.  This  entire  adventure  remained  an 
unsolved  problem  to  his  mystified  mind — how  it  was 
she  yet  continued  to  retain  his  interest ;  why  it  was  he 
could  never  wholly  succeed  in  divorcing  her  from  his 
life.  He  endeavored  now  to  imagine  her  a  mere  ordi 
nary  woman  of  the  stage,  whom  he  might  idly  flirt  with 
to-night,  and  quite  as  easily  forget  to-morrow.  Yet 
from  some  cause  the  mind  failed  to  respond  to  such 
suggestion.  There  was  something  within  the  calm, 
womanly  face  as  revealed  beneath  the  reflection  of 
garish  light,  something  in  the  very  poise  of  the  slender 
figure  bending  slightly  forward  in  aroused  enthusiasm, 
which  compelled  his  respect,  aroused  his  admiration. 
She  was  not  a  common  woman,  and  he  could  not  suc 
ceed  in  blinding  himself  to  that  fact.  Even  the  garish, 
cheap  environments,  the  glitter  and  tinsel,  the  noise 
and  brutality,  had  utterly  failed  to  tarnish  Beth 
Norvell.  She  stood  forth  different,  distinct,  a  per 
fectly  developed  flower,  rarely  beautiful,  although 
blooming  in  muck  that  was  overgrown  with  noxious 
weeds.  Winston  remained  clearly  conscious  that  some 
peculiar  essence  of  her  native  character  had  myste 
riously  perfumed  the  whole  place  —  it  glorified  her 
slight  bit  of  stage  work,  and  had  already  indelibly 
impressed  itself  upon  those  rough,  boisterous  Western 
spirits  out  in  front.  Before  her  parting  lips  uttered  a 
line  she  had  thoroughly  mastered  them,  the  innate 

[93] 


BETH    NORVELL 

purity  of  her  perfected  womanhood,  the  evident  inno 
cence  of  her  purpose,  shielding  her  against  all  indecency 
and  insult.  The  ribald  scoffing,  the  insolent  shuffling 
of  feet,  the  half-drunken  uneasiness,  ceased  as  if  by 
magic;  and  as  her  simple  act  proceeded,  the  stillness 
out  in  front  became  positively  solemn,  the  startled 
faces  picturing  an  awakening  to  higher  things.  It  was 
a  triumph  far  exceeding  the  noisy  outburst  that  greeted 
the  Mexican — a  moral  victory  over  unrestrained  law 
lessness  won  simply  by  true  womanliness,  unaided  and 
alone.  That  earlier  scene  had  brought  to  Winston  a 
deeper  realization  of  this  girl's  genius,  a  fresher  appre 
ciation  of  the  true  worth  of  her  esteem.  No  struggle 
of  heart  or  head  could  ever  again  lower  her  in  his 
secret  thought  to  the  common  level. 

The  swinging  strains  of  the  dancer's  accompaniment 
concluded  with  a  blare  of  noisy  triumph,  the  mad 
enthusiasts  out  in  front  wildly  shouting  her  name 
above  the  frantic  din  of  applause,  while,  flushed  and 
panting,  the  agile  Mexican  dancer  swept  into  the 
darkened  wings  like  a  scarlet  bird. 

"Ah,  de  Americana!"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  yet 
blazing  from  excitement,  poising  herself  directly  in  front 
of  her  silent  watcher.  "Senorita,  it  ees  not  de  same  as 
yours  —  dey  like  you,  si;  but  dey  lofe  Mercedes." 

Miss  Norvell  smiled  gently,  her  gaze  on  the  other's 
flushed,  childish  face,  and  extended  her  hand. 

"There  seems  ample  room  for  both  of  us,"  she 
replied,  pleasantly,  "yet  your  dancing  is  truly  wonder 
ful.  It  is  an  art,  and  you  must  let  me  thank  you." 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  why,  but  the  untamed, 

[94] 


A    DI  SMISSAL 

passionate  girl,  stung  in  some  mysterious  manner  by 
these  quietly  spoken  words  of  appreciation,  instantly 
drew  her  slight  form  erect. 

"You  nevar  forget  you  not  one  of  us,  do  you?"  she 
questioned  in  sudden  bitterness  of  spirit.  "  Pah !  maybe 
you  tink  I  care  what  you  like.  I  dance  because  I  lofe 
to;  because  it  sets  my  blood  on  fire.  I  no  care  for  all 
your  airs  of  fine  lady." 

"I  exceedingly  regret  you  should  feel  so.  I  cer 
tainly  spoke  in  kindness  and  appreciation.  Would 
you  permit  me  to  pass?" 

The  angry  young  Mexican  swept  back  her  scarlet 
skirts  as  though  in  disdain,  her  white  shoulders  uplifted. 
She  did  not  know  why  she  felt  thus  vindictive;  to  save 
her  soul  she  could  not  have  told  the  reason,  yet  deep 
down  within  her  passionate  heart  there  existed  a  hatred 
for  this  white,  silent  American,  whose  slightest  word 
sounded  to  her  like  rebuke.  She  stood  there  still, 
watching  suspiciously,  smouldering  dislike  burning  in 
her  black  eyes,  when  Winston  suddenly  stepped  from 
the  concealing  shadows  with  a  word  of  unexpected 
greeting.  She  noticed  the  sudden  flush  sweep  into 
Miss  Norvell's  cheek,  the  quick  uplifting  of  her  eyes, 
the  almost  instant  drooping  again  of  veiling  lashes, 
and,  quickly  comprehending  it  all,  stepped  promptly 
forward  just  far  enough  to  obtain  a  clear  view  of  the 
young  man's  face.  The  next  moment  the  two  had 
vanished  into  the  night  without.  Mercedes  laughed 
unpleasantly  to  herself,  her  white  teeth  gleaming. 

"Ah,  Merciful  Mother!  so  my  ver'  fine  lady  has 
found  herself  a  lofer  here  already.  Sapristi,  an'  he  is 

[95] 


BETH     NORVELL 

well  worth  lookin'  at!  I  vill  ask  of  de  stage  manager 
his  name." 

Outside,  beneath  the  faint  glimmer  of  the  stars, 
Winston  offered  his  arm,  and  Miss  Norvell  accepted 
it  silently.  It  was  no  more  than  a  short  stroll  to  the 
hotel,  and  the  street  at  that  particular  hour  was  suffi 
ciently  deserted,  so  the  young  man  rather  keenly  felt 
the  evident  constraint  of  his  companion.  It  impressed 
him  as  unnatural,  and  he  felt  inclined  to  attribute  her 
state  of  mind  to  the  unpleasant  scene  he  had  just 
beheld. 

"Senorita  Mercedes  does  not  appear  very  kindly 
disposed  toward  you,"  he  ventured.  "Have  you 
quarrelled  already?" 

"You  refer  to  the  Mexican  dancer?"  she  questioned, 
glancing  aside  at  him  curiously.  "Really,  I  did  not 
remember  having  heard  the  girl's  name  mentioned 
before.  Do  you  know  her?" 

"Only  as  she  is  announced  on  the  bills,  and  having 
seen  her  dance  from  the  front  of  the  house.  She  is 
certainly  a  true  artist  in  her  line,  the  most  expert  I 
recall  ever  having  seen.  What  has  ever  made  her 
your  enemy?" 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  Her  words  were  a 
complete  surprise;  I  was  too  greatly  astonished  even 
to  resent  them.  I  have  never  spoken  to  the  girl  until 
to-night,  and  then  merely  uttered  a  sentence  of  sincere 
congratulation.  She  is  extremely  pretty,  and  it  seems 
quite  too  bad  she  should  be  compelled  to  lead  such  a 
life.  She  does  not  appear  older  than  seventeen." 

He  glanced  about  at  her  in  surprise. 

[96] 


A    DISMISSAL 

"Such  a  life,"  he  echoed,  recklessly.  "So  then  you 
actually  pity  others  while  remaining  totally  unconcerned 
regarding  yourself?" 

"Oh,  no;  you  greatly  mistake,  or  else  wilfully  mis 
construe.  I  am  not  unconcerned,  yet  there  is  a  very 
wide  difference,  I  am  sure.  This  girl  is  at  the  Gayety 
from  deliberate  choice;  she  as  much  as  told  me  so. 
She  is  in  love  with  that  sort  of  life.  Probably  she  has 
never  known  anything  better,  while  I  am  merely  fight 
ing  out  a  bit  of  hard  luck,  and,  within  two  weeks,  at 
the  longest,  shall  again  be  free.  Surely,  you  cannot 
hint  that  we  stand  upon  the  same  level." 

"God  forbid!"  fervently.  "Yet  just  as  sincerely  I 
wish  you  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  remain  for  even 
that  brief  length  of  time.  It  is  a  shock  to  me  to 
realize  your  intimate  association  with  such  depraved 
characters.  You  are  surely  aware  that  my  purse 
remains  at  your  disposal,  if  you  will  only  cut  the 
whole  thing." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  reproachfully  to  his  face. 

"Yes,  I  know;  and  possibly  you  are  justified  accord 
ing  to  your  code  for  feeling  in  that  way.  But  I  do 
not  believe  I  am  becoming  in  the  least  contaminated 
by  evil  associations,  nor  do  I  feel  any  lowering  of 
moral  ideals.  I  am  doing  what  I  imagine  to  be  right 
under  the  circumstances,  and  have  already  given  you 
my  final  decision,  as  well  as  my  reason  for  it.  You 
say  c  such  depraved  characters.'  Can  you  refer  to  this 
Mercedes?  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  confess  feeling 
an  interest  in  this  beautiful  Mexican  girl.  What  is  it 
you  know  regarding  her?  " 

[97] 


BETH    NORVELL 

The  young  man  impulsively  started  to  speak,  but 
as  instantly  paused.  An  instinctive  dread  of  uttering 
those  plain  words  he  would  much  prefer  she  should 
never  hear  served  to  soften  his  language. 

"There  is  not  a  great  deal  of  reserve  about  the 
Gayety,"  he  explained  lightly,  "and  indiscriminate 
gossip  is  a  part  of  its  advertising  equipment.  As  to 
Senorita  Mercedes,  my  only  informant  is  common 
rumor  out  in  front.  That  connects  her  name  quite 
familiarly  with  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  gambling 
rooms." 

"  You  have  no  reason  to  know  this  ?  " 

"  None  whatever.  As  I  say,  it  has  come  to  me  in  the 
form  of  common  rumor.  The  man  referred  to  is  the 
special  faro  expert,  a  fellow  named  Farnham." 

Miss  Norvell  started  violently,  her  fingers  clutching 
his  arm  as  if  to  keep  her  body  from  falling,  her  face 
grown  suddenly  white. 

"  Farnham,  did  you  say  ?     What  —  what  Farnham  ?  " 

"I  believe  I  have  heard  him  familiarly  spoken  of  as 
'  Biff.' " 

"  Here  ?  Here  in  San  Juan  ?  f  Biff'  Farnham 
here?"  The  startled  words  appeared  to  stick  in  the 
swelling  white  throat,  and  she  stood  staring  at  him, 
her  slender  figure  swaying  as  though  he  had  struck 
her  a  physical  blow.  "  Oh,  I  never  knew  that !  " 

Winston,  shocked  and  surprised  by  this  unexpected 
outburst,  did  not  speak,  his  face  slowly  hardening  to 
the  dim  suspicion  thus  suddenly  aroused  by  her  agita 
tion  and  her  impetuous  exclamation.  She  must  have 
taken  instant  warning  from  the  expression  of  his  eyes, 

[98] 


A    DISMISSAL 

for,  with  an  effort,  she  faced  him  in  regained  calmness, 
a  slight  tremor  in  her  low  voice  alone  betraying  the  lack 
of  complete  self-control. 

"Your  information  certainly  startled  me  greatly," 
she  exclaimed  slowly.  "  It  was  so  unexpected,  and  so 
much  has  happened  of  late  to  affect  my  nerves." 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  and  as  he  ventured  to 
glance  aside  at  her,  uncertain  regarding  his  future 
course,  her  eyes  were  lowered  and  hidden  behind  the 
drooping  lashes. 

"And  is  that  all  ?  "  he  asked. 

"All  ?     Why,  what  more  is  there?  " 

He  compressed  his  lips,  striving  not  to  exhibit 
openly  his  impatience. 

"  Nothing,  of  course,"  he  acquiesced  quietly,  "if  the 
lady  prefers  keeping  silent.  Only,  as  matters  now 
stand,  the  result  may  prove  an  unpleasant  misunder 
standing." 

They  were  now  at  the  bottom  of  the  few  steps 
leading  up  toward  the  hotel  entrance,  and  Miss  Nor- 
vell,  removing  her  hand  from  the  support  of  his  arm, 
stood  before  him  outwardly  calm. 

"  Beyond  doubt,  you  refer  to  my  apparent  surprise 
at  first  hearing  Mr.  Farnham's  name  mentioned?" 

He  bowed  quietly,  again  fascinated  and  disarmed  by 
the  revelation  in  those  dark  eyes. 

"The  explanation  is  quite  simple,"  and  the  voice 
exhibited  a  touch  of  coolness  easily  perceptible.  "  I 
chanced  to  be  somewhat  acquainted  with  this  man 
in  the  East  before  —  well,  before  he  became  a  gambler. 
Of  course,  I  do  not  know  him  now,  have  not  the  slight- 

[99] 


est  desire  to  do  so,  but  the  sudden  information  that  he 
was  actually  here,  and  —  and  all  the  rest  —  came  to  me 
with  a  shock.  Is  that  sufficient?" 

The  young  man  was  unsatisfied,  and,  without  doubt, 
his  face  quite  clearly  exhibited  his  true  feeling.  Yet 
there  was  that  about  her  constrained  manner  which  held 
him  to  respectful  silence,  so  that  for  a  moment  the 
hesitation  between  them  grew  almost  painful.  Miss 
Norvell,  realizing  this  new  danger,  struggled  weakly 
against  sudden  temptation  to  throw  herself  unreserv 
edly  upon  the  mercy  of  this  new  friend,  confide  wholly 
in  him,  accept  his  proffered  aid,  and  flee  from  possible 
coming  trouble.  But  pride  proved  even  stronger  than 
fear,  and  her  lips  closed  in  firm  resolution. 

"  Mr.  Winston,"  she  said,  and  now  her  eyes  were 
uplifted  unfaltering  to  his  own.  "  I  find  myself 
obliged  to  speak  with  a  frankness  I  have  hoped  to 
avoid.  It  was  never  my  desire  that  you  should  call 
for  me  at  the  theatre  to-night." 

"  Indeed?"  His  surprised  tone  clearly  exhibited  the 
sudden  hurt  of  the  wound. 

"Yes ;  yet,  pray  do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  find  it 
exceedingly  difficult  to  say  this,  and  1  confess  I  have 
even  prayed  that  you  would  be  led  to  go  away  volun 
tarily,  and  without  its  being  necessary  for  me  to 
appear  discourteous.  I  appreciate  your  kindness, 
your  gentlemanly  conduct.  I  —  I  greatly  value  your 
friendship,  prize  it  more  highly,  possibly,  than  you 
will  ever  be  able  to  realize;  yet,  believe  me,  there  are 
reasons  why  I  cannot  permit  you  to  —  to  be  with  me 
any  longer  in  this  way.  It  is  for  your  sake,  as  well  as 

[100] 


A    DISMISSAL 

my  own,  that  I  am  driven  to  speak  thus  frankly,  and 
I  am  certain  you  will  not  add  to  my  pain,  my  embar 
rassment,  by  asking  more  definite  explanation." 

His  heart  beating  like  a  trip-hammer,  Winston 
stood  motionless,  staring  into  the  girl's  appealing  face, 
suddenly  aroused  to  her  full  meaning,  and  as  thor 
oughly  awakened  to  a  conception  of  what  she  really 
had  become  to  him.  The  thought  of  losing  her, 
losing  her  perhaps  to  another,  seemed  to  chill  his  very 
soul. 

"Assuredly,  I  will  respect  your  secret,"  he  answered, 
mastering  his  voice  with  an  effort.  "I  understand 
when  I  am  bowled  out.  What  is  it  you  desire  me  to 
do?" 

He  could  not  perceive  in  that  dim  light  the  sudden 
mist  of  tears  clouding  her  eyes,  but  she  lifted  her 
gloved  hand  and  swept  them  aside. 

"It  is  not  easy  to  say  such  things,  yet  I  must.  I 
wish  you  to  go  away ;  go  back  to  Denver,"  she 
exclaimed ;  then,  all  at  once,  her  strained  voice  broke 
into  a  little  sob.  "  I  cannot  stand  your  presence 
here!" 

That  last  impetuous  sentence  burst  through  his 
armor  of  constraint,  and  for  the  instant  he  forgot  every 
thing  but  that  thoughtless  confession.  She  read  it 
in  his  face,  and  as  quickly  flung  forth  her  hand  in 
warning,  but  he  only  grasped  it  tightly  within  his 
own. 

"You  cannot  stand  it!"  he  cried  in  passionate  eager 
ness.  "  Then  you  must  care  for  me  ?  You  must  love 
me,  Beth?" 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  No,  no  ! "  Her  eyes  were  full  of  agony,  and  she 
sought  to  free  her  imprisoned  hand.  "  Oh,  hush  !  I 
beg  of  you,  hush!  You  —  you  hurt  me  so.  I  will 
not  permit  you  to  speak  such  words.  Please  release 
my  hand." 

He  loosened  his  grasp,  feeling  bewildered,  ashamed, 
dimly  conscious  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  an  ungentle- 
manly  action,  yet  deep  within  his  own  heart  assured 
that  he  felt  no  regret. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ?  "  he  questioned  vaguely. 

"Yes,"  and  all  the  previous  tremor  had  left  her 
clear  voice.  "  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  ever  say 
such  a  thing  to  me.  I  gave  you  no  right  to  speak 
those  words." 

"  My  own  heart  gave  me  the  right." 

Possibly  the  woman  in  her  conquered ;  perhaps 
there  was  a  nameless  hunger  within  her  soul  which 
made  her  long  to  hear  the  forbidden  words  just  once 
from  his  lips. 

"  The  right,  you  say  ?     What  right  ? " 

"To  tell  you  that  I  love  you." 

She  drew  a  quick,  quivering  breath,  the  rich  color 
surging  into  her  cheeks,  her  gloved  hands  clasped 
across  her  heaving  bosom  as  though  to  still  the  fierce 
throbbing  of  her  heart.  An  instant  she  stood  as  if 
palsied,  trembling,  from  head  to  foot,  although  he 
could  perceive  nothing.  Her  lips  smiled. 

"Oh,  indeed,"  she  said  archly,  "and  how  very 
prettily  you  said  it !  The  only  son  of  Colonel  Win 
ston,  the  wealthy  banker  of  Denver,  honors  Miss  Nor- 
vell,  actress,  and  she,  of  course,  feels  highly  grateful !" 

[102] 


A    DISMISSAL 

"  Beth,  stop  !  "  His  voice  was  indignantly  earnest. 
"It  is  not  that;  you  must  know  it  is  not  that!" 

"  I  only  know  it  is  supremely  ridiculous,"  she 
returned,  more  coldly;  "yet  if  I  did  not  believe  you 
spoke  with  some  degree  of  honesty  I  should  deem 
your  words  a  deliberate  insult,  and  treat  them  accord 
ingly.  As  it  is,  I  prefer  regarding  your  speech  merely 
as  an  evidence  of  temporary  insanity.  Ned  Winston 
making  love  to  Beth  Norvell !  Why,  you  do  not 
even  know  my  true  name,  the  story  of  my  life,  or  that 
I  am  in  any  way  worthy  of  your  mere  friendship. 
Love !  You  love  me,  an  actress  in  a  fly-by-night  com 
pany,  a  variety  artist  at  the  Gayety!  What  would 
they  say  at  home? " 

"  I  know  you." 

"Ah,  but  you  do  not  in  the  least,"  her  voice  grown 
steady  and  serious.  "  That  is  the  whole  trouble.  You 
do  not  in  the  least  know  me.  I  am  not  even  what 
you  imagine  me  to  be.  I  am  a  fraud,  a  cheat,  a  mas- 
querader.  Know  me  !  Why,  if  you  did,  instead  of 
speaking  words  of  love  you  would  despise ;  instead  of 
seeking,  you  would  run  away.  Oh,  let  us  end  this  farce 
forever ;  it  is  as  painful  to  myself  as  to  you.  Promise 
me,  Ned  Winston,  that  you  will  return  to  Denver." 

She  tantalized,  tempted  him  even  while  she  thus 
openly  renounced.  He  struggled  madly  with  an 
almost  overmastering  desire  to  burst  forth  in  strenuous 
denial,  to  lay  his  whole  life  unreservedly  at  her  feet. 
Yet  something  within  the  girl's  resolute  face  steadied 
him,  made  him  feel  her  decision  as  unchangeable. 

'c  Beth  —  you  —  you  will  not  listen?" 

LI03] 


BETH     NORVELL 

"No  —  not  to  another  word." 

"You  do  not  believe  me?  " 

He  marked  the  quick  restraining  pressure  of  her 
lips,  the  tumultuous  rise  and  fall  of  her  breast. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you,"  she  admitted,  almost  wearily. 
"You  mean  it — now;  but  —  but  it  is  impossible.  I 
wish  you  to  go." 

An  instant  Winston  stood  looking  straight  into 
those  dark,  glowing  eyes,  and  all  his  inherited  strength 
of  manhood  came  trooping  back  to  aid  him.  He  com 
prehended  in  that  moment  of  intense  resolution  that 
this  woman  had  become  the  whole  world  to  him.  That 
one  fact  never  would  change.  It  came  over  him  as  a 
distinct  revelation  untinged  by  either  despair  or  hope. 
It  was  merely  an  unalterable  truth,  which  he  must 
henceforth  face  as  fate  willed.  He  was  of  fighting 
blood,  and  the  seeming  obstacles  in  the  way  of  success 
did  not  dismay ;  they  merely  served  to  inspire  him  to 
greater  efforts. 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  not  at  present  free  to  go,"  he 
replied,  more  quietly,  "for  the  reason  that  I  have  already 
accepted  some  professional  work  here.  However,  I  agree 
not  to  trouble  you  again  with  my  presence  until  —  " 

He  paused  in  uncertainty  as  to  his  next  word. 

"What?" 

"You  give  me  welcome." 

She  extended  her  hand. 

"  You  certainly  speak  with  sufficient  confidence." 

" ( Fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread,' "  he 
quoted  lightly ;  "  and  I  herewith  announce  myself  a 
firm  believer  in  miracles." 

[104] 


A    DISMISSAL 

"  Then  your  faith  is  about  to  be  put  to  a  most  severe 
test." 

"  I  welcome  that.  Yet,  if  parting  is  insisted  upon, 
we  can,  at  least,  remain  friends.  You  certainly  do  not 
hold  my  words  against  me  ? " 

The  flush,  although  fainter,  again  crept  into  the 
clear  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  fell  before  this  questioning. 

"  No  true  woman  ever  remains  wholly  indifferent," 
she  acknowledged  with  swift  frankness,  "  or  neglects  to 
think  kindly  in  her  secret  heart  of  any  one  who  has 
told  her  that  story ;  and  I  am  a  woman." 

For  a  brief  moment  her  hand  rested  warm  and 
throbbing  within  his  own,  and  there  passed  an  electric 
flash  of  the  eyes  between  them.  Then  she  withdrew 
her  fingers  and  opened  the  door. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  whispered,  the  word  lingering  like 
perfume,  and  vanished,  even  as  he  took  a  step  toward 
her. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"HE  MEANS  FIGHT" 

WINSTON  remained  staring  blankly  at  the 
closed  door  behind  which  she  had  so  swiftly 
vanished,  his  mind  a  chaos  of  doubt.  He 
assuredly  never  purposed  saying  what  he  had  said 
under  the  jpur  of  deprivation,  yet  he  regretted 
no  single  word  that  he  had  uttered.  That  he  earnestly 
worshipped  this  briefly  known  woman  was  a  fact 
borne  in  upon  him  suddenly;  yet  now,  the  fact  once 
completely  realized,  he  surrendered  unconditionally  to 
the  inevitable.  For  a  moment  his  thought  of  her 
obscured  all  lesser  things;  he  saw  nothing  else  in  the 
wide  world  really  worth  striving  after — every  aroused 
impulse  thrilled  to  the  fair  face,  the  soft  voice  of  Beth 
Norvell.  He  was  no  "quitter,"  no  faint-heart  either 
in  love  or  in  war,  and  he  was  now  far  too  deeply  in 
earnest  to  accept  as  final  a  stingless  rejection  spoken 
by  lips  that  were  so  openly  contradicted  by  the  smiling 
eyes  above.  Whatever  of  stern  necessity  might  have 
inspired  the  utterance  of  such  words  of  cold  renuncia 
tion,  it  was  assuredly  neither  indifference  nor  dislike. 
He  forgave  the  lips,  recalling  only  the  eyes. 

With  his  hand  still  pressed  against  the  porch  rail 
ing,  the  young  man  suddenly  recalled  Biff  Farnham, 
his  cool  gray  eyes  as  instantly  hardening,  his  lips 
pressed  together.  What  possible  part  in  the  dusk  of 

[106] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT' 

the  shadowed  past  did  that  disreputable  gambler  play? 
What  connection  could  he  hold,  either  in  honor  or 
dishonor,  with  the  previous  life  history  of  Beth 
Norvell  ?  He  did  not  in  the  least  doubt  her,  for  it 
was  Winston's  nature  to  be  entirely  loyal,  to  be 
unsuspicious  of  those  he  once  trusted.  Yet  he  could 
not  continue  completely  blind.  That  there  once 
existed  some  connection  it  was  impossible  to  ignore 
entirely.  Her  laughing,  yet  clearly  embarrassed, 
attempt  at  explanation  had  not  in  the  slightest 
deceived  him,  for  beyond  it  remained  her  quick  surprise 
at  that  earliest  unexpected  mention  of  the  man's  name, 
the  suddenly  blanched  cheeks,  the  unconcealed  fright 
revealed  by  the  dark  eyes.  The  full  truth  was  to  be 
read  there,  and  not  in  her  later  more  deliberate  attempt 
at  leading  his  suspicions  astray.  There  was  nothing 
pleasant  about  this  thought,  and  Winston's  sensitive 
face  flushed,  his  glance  wandering  uneasily  down  the 
midnight  street.  For  the  space  of  a  block,  or  more, 
where  numerous  tents  and  low  wooden  buildings  stood 
deserted  of  tenants,  all  remained  dark  and  silent;  but 
just  beyond  glowed  brilliantly  the  many-hued  lights 
of  the  wide-awake  Poodle-Dog,  and  he  could  even  hear 
the  band  playing  noisily  within  the  still  more  distant 
dance  hall.  This  combined  sight  and  sound  served  to 
arouse  him  to  action  and  a  cool  resolve.  If  he  really 
intended  to  play  out  this  game  successfully  he  must 
learn  something  of  its  conditions.  Besides,  he  had 
now  two  most  excellent  reasons  for  desiring  to  form  an 
early  acquaintance  with  this  man  Farnham — the  fellow 
had  come  across  his  line  of  life  twice  within  the  past 

[107] 


BETH    NORVELL 

twelve  hours.  For  the  purpose  there  could  be  no 
time  better  than  the  present.  He  struck  a  match 
against  the  rough  railing  and  lighted  for  himself  a 
fresh  cigar,  his  clear-cut,  manly  features  showing  calmly 
determined  in  that  instant  glare  of  sputtering  flame. 
Almost  unconsciously,  following  the  instinct  of  his 
long  Western  training,  he  slipped  a  revolver  from  its 
customary  resting-place  at  the  hip,  and  dropped  the 
weapon  conveniently  into  the  side  pocket  of  his  loose 
sack  coat.  He  had  heard  some  tales  of  this  man  he 
purposed  seeking,  and  it  might  prove  well  to  be  pre 
pared  for  emergencies. 

The  bar-room  of  the  blazing  Poodle-Dog  was 
thronged  with  men  —  men  standing  before  the  long, 
sloppy  bar,  men  seated  around  rough  tables,  and  men 
lounging  here  and  there  in  groups  about  the  heavily 
sanded  floor.  Uninterestedly  glancing  at  these,  Win 
ston  paused  for  an  idle  moment,  his  eyes  fastened 
upon  a  whirling  spectacle  of  dancers  in  the  hall  beyond. 
It  formed  a  scene  of  mad  revelry;  yet  in  his  present 
state  of  mind,  he  cared  little  for  its  frontier  pictur- 
esqueness,  and  soon  turned  away,  mounting  the  broad 
stairway  down  which,  like  an  invitation,  echoed  the 
sharp  click  of  ivory  chips,  and  the  excited  voices  of 
those  absorbed  in  play.  In  both  size  and  gorgeousness 
of  decoration  the  rooms  above  were  a  surprise — a  glit 
ter  of  lights,  a  babel  of  noises,  a  continuous  jumble  of 
figures,  while  over  all  trembled  a  certain  tension  of 
excitement,  terrible  in  its  enchaining  power.  The  very 
atmosphere  seemed  electric,  filled  with  a  deadly  charm. 
The  dull  roar  of  undistinguishable  voices  sounded 

[108] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT" 

incessantly,  occasionally  punctuated  by  those  sharp, 
penetrating  tones  with  which  the  scattered  dealers 
called  varied  turns  of  play,  or  by  some  deep  oath  fall 
ing  unnoted  from  desperate  lips  as  the  unhappy  end 
came.  Winston,  who  had  seen  many  similar  scenes, 
glanced  with  his  usual  cool  indifference  at  the  various 
groups  of  players,  careless  except  in  his  search,  and 
pressing  straight  through  the  vibrating,  excited  throng, 
regardless  of  the  many  faces  fronting  him.  He  under 
stood  that  Farnham  dealt  faro,  and  consequently  moved 
directly  down  the  long  main  room  totally  indifferent 
to  all  else.  He  discovered  his  particular  goal  at  last, 
almost  at  the  farther  end  of  the  great  apartment,  the 
crowd  gathered  about  the  faro  table  dense  and  silent. 
He  succeeded  in  pressing  in  slowly  through  the  outer 
fringe  of  players  until  he  attained  a  position  within  ten 
feet  of  the  dealer.  There  he  halted,  leaning  against 
the  wall,  the  narrow  space  between  them  unoccupied. 
He  saw  before  him  a  slenderly  built,  fashionably 
dressed  figure,  surmounted  by  clear-cut,  smooth-shaven 
features  —  a  man  of  thirty,  possibly,  decidedly  aristo 
cratic,  perfectly  self-controlled,  his  eyes  cool,  calculat 
ing,  his  hands  swift,  unhesitating  in  play.  From  some 
mysterious  cause  this  masterful  repose  of  the  absorbed 
dealer  began  immediately  to  exercise  a  serious  fascina 
tion  over  the  man  watching  him.  He  did  not  appear 
altogether  human,  he  seemed  rather  like  some  per 
fectly  adjusted  machine,  able  to  think  and  plan,  yet 
as  unemotional  as  so  much  tempered  steel.  There 
was  no  perceptible  change  passing  in  that  utterly  impas 
sive  face,  no  brightening  of  those  cold,  observant  eyes, 

[109] 


BETH    NORVELL 

no  faintest  movement  of  the  tightly  compressed  lips. 
It  was  as  though  he  wore  a  mask  completely  eclipsing 
every  natural  human  feeling.  Twice  Winston,  observ 
ing  closely  from  his  post  of  vantage  slightly  to  the 
rear  the  swift  action  of  those  slender  white  fingers, 
could  have  sworn  the  dealer  faced  the  wrong  card,  yet 
the  dangerous  trick  was  accomplished  so  quickly,  so 
coolly,  with  never  a  lowering  of  the  eyes,  the  twitching 
of  a  muscle,  that  a  moment  later  the  half-jealous 
watcher  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  own  keen  eye 
sight.  As  the  final  fateful  card  came  silently  gliding 
forth  and  was  deliberately  turned,  face  upward,  amid 
bitter  curses  telling  the  disappointment  of  that  breath 
less  crowd,  a  young  woman  suddenly  swept  around 
the  lower  edge  of  the  long  table,  brushing  Winston 
with  her  flapping  skirt  as  she  passed,  bent  down,  and 
whispered  a  half-dozen  rapid  sentences  into  the  gamb 
ler's  ear.  The  hands,  already  deftly  shuffling  the 
cards  for  another  deal,  scarcely  paused  in  their  opera 
tions,  nor  did  those  cool,  observant  eyes  once  desert 
the  sea  of  excited  faces  before  him.  He  asked  a 
single  brief  question,  nodded  carelessly  to  the  hastily 
spoken  reply,  and  then,  as  the  woman  drew  noiselessly 
away,  Winston  gazed  directly  into  the  startled  black 
eyes  of  Senorita  Mercedes.  Instantly  she  smiled  mer 
rily,  exhibiting  her  white  teeth. 

"Ah,  sefior,"  and  she  bent  toward  him  in  seductive 
whisper,  "so  my  lady,  de  Americana,  let  you  escape 
early  to-night ! ". 

Surprised  at  her  recognition,  he  failed  to  answer  imme 
diately,  and  the  girl  touched  him  gently  with  her  hand. 

[110] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT' 

"  De  girls  of  my  race  never  so  cold,  senor.  Try  me 
some  time,  an'  see." 

With  a  happy  laugh  and  coquettish  uplifting  of  the 
dark  eyes,  the  dancer  was  as  quickly  gone,  vanishing 
into  the  throng  like  a  flash  of  red  flame.  For  a  breath 
less  moment  Winston's  admiring  gaze  followed,  con 
scious  merely  of  her  dark  beauty,  her  slender,  graceful 
figure.  He  was  young,  impressionable,  and  there  was 
rare  witchery  about  the  girl  which  momentarily  fasci 
nated  him.  His  attention  shifted  .back  to  Farnham 
with  a  swift  remembrance  of  the  stern  purpose  which 
had  brought  him  there.  The  gambler  was  play 
ing  out  his  case  silently,  emotionless  as  ever.  If  he 
had  observed  anything  unusual,  if  he  considered  any 
thing  beyond  his  card-play,  no  eye  could  have  detected 
it  in  that  impassive  countenance,  those  cold,  expres 
sionless  eyes.  Apparently  he  was  a  mere  automaton, 
the  sole  symbol  of  life  showing  in  the  white  fingers 
so  deftly  dealing  the  fateful  pasteboards  from  the  box. 
The  impatient,  excited  crowd  facing  him  moved  rest 
lessly,  cursing  or  laughing  with  each  swift  turn  of  play; 
but  he  who  wrought  the  spell  neither  spoke  nor  smiled, 
his  face  remaining  fixed,  immutable,  as  emotionless  as 
carven  granite.  Suddenly  he  glanced  meaningly  aside, 
and,  nodding  silently  to  a  black-moustached  fellow 
lounging  beside  the  croupier,  rose  quickly  from  his 
chair.  The  other  as  instantly  slipped  into  it,  his  hands 
guarding  the  few  remaining  cards,  while  Farnham  stood 
for  a  moment  behind  the  chair,  idly  looking  on.  There 
was  no  noticeable  interruption  to  the  game,  and  when 
the  final  card  came  gliding  forth  from  the  silver  box, 

Cm] 


BETH    NORVELL 

the  imperturbable  gamester  turned  deliberately  away 
from  the  table,  heedless  of  the  desperate  struggle  about 
him,  the  curses  and  uproar,  and  faced  the  younger  man 
still  leaning  against  the  wall. 

"  Mr.  Winston  ? "  he  questioned  quietly. 

Surprised  by  this  unexpected  notice,  the  other 
bowed  in  silent  acknowledgment  of  his  name. 

A  faint  sarcastic  smile  curved  the  thin,  com 
pressed  lips,  while  Farnham  ran  one  hand  carelessly 
through  his  slightly  curling  hair. 

"  I  should  like  a  few  words  with  you  in  private,"  he 
explained  politely.  "There  is  a  vacant  room  we  can 
use  —  this  way." 

Astonished  into  yielding  without  protest,  and  at  the 
same  time  feeling  sufficiently  eager  to  learn  the  cause 
for  such  a  request,  Winston  unhesitatingly  followed 
the  other  through  the  press,  marking  as  he  did  so  the 
slender  erectness  of  that  figure  in  advance,  the  square 
set  of  the  broad  shoulders,  the  easy  air  of  authority 
with  which  he  cleared  the  way.  Without  ceremony 
Farnham  flung  aside  a  heavy  brocaded  curtain,  glanc 
ing  inquiringly  into  the  smaller  room  thus  revealed. 
It  contained  a  square  table  and  half  a  dozen  chairs. 
Three  men  sat  within,  their  feet  elevated,  quietly 
smoking.  The  gambler  coolly  ran  his  eyes  over  their 
uplifted  faces. 

"  I  desire  to  use  this  room,  gents,"  he  announced 
quietly.  "You  '11  find  plenty  of  vacant  space  outside." 

Whether  the  lounging  trio  knew  the  speaker  of  old, 
or  were  sufficiently  satisfied  from  his  stern  face  of  the 
probable  results  should  they  long  hesitate  to  comply, 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT" 

the  three  pairs  of  feet  came  down  together,  their  own 
ers  passing  out  in  single  file.  Farnham  waved  his 
hand  politely  toward  the  vacated  interior,  a  slight 
measure  of  deference  apparent  in  his  modulated  voice. 

"  Help  yourself  to  a  chair,  Mr.  Winston,  and  per 
mit  me  to  offer  you  a  fresh  cigar ;  a  fairly  good  one  I 
imagine,  as  I  chance  to  be  somewhat  particular  regard 
ing  the  weed." 

A  moment  they  sat  thus  furtively  studying  each 
other's  face  across  the  table  through  the  increasing 
clouds  of  blue  smoke,  the  younger  man  puzzled  and 
filled  with  vague  suspicion,  the  elder  still  rather  un 
certain  of  his  present  ground,  as  well  as  of  the  exact 
sort  of  character  opposing  him.  He  was  somewhat 
expert  in  judging  human  nature ;  and  the  full,  square 
chin,  the  frank,  open  look  in  those  steady  gray  eyes 
across  the  table  left  him  doubtful  of  the  final  outcome. 

"No  doubt,  my  addressing  you  by  name  was  some 
thing  of  a  surprise,"  he  began,  leaning  slightly  forward, 
his  cigar  between  his  fingers;  "but  as  it  chanced,  you 
were  pointed  out  to  me  on  the  street  a  few  hours 
since.  May  I  inquire  in  this  connection  if,  by  any 
freak  of  fortune,  you  can  be  Ned  Winston,  of  Denver?" 

"I  am." 

Farnham  permitted  his  lips  to  smile  genially,  although 
his  eyes  remained  utterly  devoid  of  humor.  He  was 
skating  upon  rather  thin  ice  now,  realizing  it  to  be 
far  safer  to  make  the  venture  in  all  boldness.  What 
he  might  need  to  say  later  would  altogether  depend 
upon  how  much  this  man  really  knew. 

"I  was  not  previously  assured  of  that  fact,"  he 
["3] 


BETH    NOR V ELL 

explained,  pleasantly.  "It  was  my  pleasure  at  one 
time  to  be  quite  intimately  associated  with  an  old  friend 
of  yours,  a  college  chum,  I  believe — Robert  Craig,  of 
Chicago." 

The  swift  light  of  pleasant  remembrance  glowed 
instantly  within  the  other's  watchful  eyes.  For  the 
moment  he  dropped  his  guard  in  the  surprise  of  this 
avowal. 

"Bob  Craig!  Indeed;  why,  I  do  not  recall  his  ever 
having  mentioned  your  name  to  me." 

Farnham's  suspended  breath  burst  through  his 
compressed  lips  in  sudden  relief. 

"Very  probably  not,"  he  admitted,  quietly,  yet  hav 
ing  the  grace  to  lower  his  eyes  slightly.  "My  own 
intimacy  with  Craig  occurred  since  his  college  days. 
However,  he  has  spoken  to  me  regarding  you  quite 
frequently,  and  I  naturally  esteem  it  a  pleasure  to  meet 
with  you  personally." 

Winston  did  not  immediately  reply,  puzzling  his 
confused  mind  in  a  wholly  useless  attempt  at  recall 
ing  his  ever  having  heard  this  man's  name  before.  But 
Farnham,  placed  completely  at  his  ease  regarding  possi 
ble  recognition,  proceeded  coolly. 

"Yet,  that  does  not  sufficiently  account  for  my 
inviting  you  here."  And  he  leaned  farther  across  the 
table,  slightly  lowering  his  voice.  "My  important  rea- 
?on  for  speaking  is  entirely  a  business  one.  You  are, 
I  understand,  a  mining  engineer?" 

Winston  permitted  his  eyes  to  acquiesce,  fully 
determined  now  to  allow  this  man  to  exhibit  his  own 
hand  completely  before  making  any  return  play. 

["4] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT" 

Farnham,  watching  the  face  of  the  other  closely,  paused 
to  relight  his  cigar. 

"The  simple  fact  is,"  he  resumed,  carelessly,  "we 
are  having  some  little  difficulty  at  present  regarding 
certain  mining  claims  we  are  operating  up  in  Echo 
Canyon.  Nothing  at  all  serious,  you  understand,  but 
there  's  plenty  of  bad  blood,  and  we  naturally  prefer 
keeping  the  entire  controversy  out  of  the  courts,  if 
possible.  A  lawsuit,  whatever  its  final  result,  would 
be  quite  certain  to  tie  up  the  property  for  an  indefinite 
period.  Besides,  lawsuits  in  this  country  cost  money. 
The  man  who  has  been  making  the  greater  part  of  the 
existing  trouble,  a  drunken,  quarrelsome  old  mountain 
shell-back,  named  Hicks,  came  in  here  to  see  me  this 
afternoon.  He  was  in  blamed  bad  humor,  and  threatened 
to  blow  my  brains  out  unless  I  came  to  his  terms. 
No  doubt  he  meant  it,  and  consequently  I  got  rid  of 
him  the  easiest  way  I  could,  and  that  was  by  lying. 
I  've  always  preferred  to  lie  rather  than  get  shot. 
Hard  to  account  for  tastes,  you  know.  However, 
among  other  things  the  fellow  chanced  to  mention 
while  here  was  that  you  had  been  employed  to  look 
after  their  interests.  I  presume  that  statement  was 
merely  a  bluff?" 

"Well,  not  precisely,"  admitted  Winston,  when  the 
other  paused.  "I  agreed  to  go  out  there,  and  look 
over  the  ground." 

Farnham  smiled  deprecatingly,  his  cigar  gripped 
tightly  between  his  white  teeth. 

"Just  about  as  I  supposed.  No  particular  harm 
done  as  yet,  and  no  contract  made;  time  enough  left 


BETH    NORVELL 

to  draw  out  of  a  bad  bargain.  Well,  Winston,  I  am 
here  to  tell  you  that  outfit  is  not  the  kind  you  want  to 
associate  yourself  with  if  you  desire  to  stand  well  in 
this  camp.  That 's  the  straight  goods.  They  're  sim 
ply  a  lot  of  blackmailers  and  irresponsible  thieves. 
Why,  damn  it,  man,  the  actual  fact  is,  they  can't  get  a 
single  reputable  mining  engineer  in  all  this  whole  dis 
trict  to  take  hold  of  their  dirty  work.  That 's  why 
they  've  had  to  hunt  up  a  new  man,  and  got  track  of 
you." 

"  So  Hicks  admitted,"  interposed  the  younger  man 
gravely,  "  although  he  put  it  in  rather  different  form. 
He  said  it  was  because  you  had  the  money,  and  your 
crowd  bought  them  all  up." 

"Oh,  he  did,  did  he?"  and  the  gambler  laughed 
outright.  "  Well,  that  sort  of  a  job  would  n't  be  very 
costly  —  to  outbid  that  measly  outfit.  It  would  be  a 
sight  cheaper  than  litigation,  I  reckon.  What  did  he 
offer  you,  by  the  way  ? " 

The  young  engineer  hesitated  slightly,  his  cheeks 
flushing  at  the  cool  impudence  of  the  other's  direct 
question. 

".I  do  not  recall  that  any  positive  offer  was  made," 
he  replied  finally.  "At  least,  the  question  of  payment 
was  not  broached." 

"The  old  cuss  proved  more  honest  than  I  had 
supposed,"  and  Farnham  dropped  his  clinched  hand  on 
the  table.  "Now,  see  here,  Winston,  I  propose  giving 
you  this  thing  right  out  from  the  shoulder.  There  is  no 
use  beating  around  the  bush.  Those  fellows  have  n't 
got  so  much  as  a  leg  to  stand  on;  their  claim  is  no  good, 

[116] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT" 

and  never  will  be.  They  're  simply  making  a  bluff 
to  wring  some  good  money  out  of  us,  and  I  don't  want 
to  see  you  get  tangled  up  in  that  sort  of  a  skin  game. 
You  're  Bob  Craig's  friend,  and  therefore  mine.  Now, 
listen.  There  are  two  fellows  concerned  in  that  f  Little 
Yankee'  claim,  this  whiskey-soaked  Hicks  and  his 
partner,  a  big,  red-headed,  stuttering  fool  named  Brown 
— c  Stutter'  Brown,  I  believe  they  call  him  —  and  what 
have  they  got  between  them?  A  damned  hole  in  the 
ground,  that 's  all.  Oh,  I  know ;  I  've  had  them  looked 
after  from  A  to  Z.  I  always  handle  my  cards  over 
before  I  play.  They  had  exactly  two  hundred  dollars 
between  them  deposited  in  a  local  bank  here  last  week. 
That 's  their  total  cash  capital.  Yesterday  one  of  my 
people  managed  to  get  down  in  their  dinky  mine.  It 
was  a  girl  who  did  the  job,  but  she  's  a  bright  one,  and 
that  fellow  Brown  proved  dead  easy  when  she  once  got 
her  black  eyes  playing  on  him.  He  threw  up  both 
hands  and  caved.  Well,  say,  they  're  down  less  than 
fifty  feet,  and  their  vein  actually  is  n't  paying  them 
grub-stakes.  That 's  the  exact  state  of  the  case.  Now, 
Winston,  you  do  n't  propose  to  tie  yourself  profession 
ally  with  that  sort  of  a  beggarly  outfit,  do  you?" 

The  younger  man  had  been  sitting  motionless,  his 
arm  resting  easily  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  his  eyes 
slowly  hardening  as  the  other  proceeded. 

"  I  never  before  clearly  understood  that  poverty 
was  necessarily  a  crime,"  he  remarked  thoughtfully,  as 
Farnham  came  to  a  pause.  "  Besides,  I  am  not  tied 
up  with  that  special  outfit.  I  have  merely  agreed  to 
examine  into  the  matter." 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Of  course,  I  understand  that ;  but  what 's  the  use  ? 
You  '11  only  come  to  exactly  the  same  conclusion  all  the 
others  have.  Besides,  I  have  been  especially  authorized 
to  offer  you  a  thousand  dollars  simply  to  drop  the  thing. 
It 's  worth  that  much  to  us  just  now  to  be  let  alone." 

Winston's  eyes  half  closed,  his  fingers  gripping 
nervously  into  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"It  occurs  to  me  you  place  my  selling-out  price 
at  rather  low  figures,"  he  said  contemptuously. 

Farnham  straightened  up  in  his  chair,  instantly  real 
izing  he  had  been  guilty  of  playing  the  wrong  card, 
and  for  the  moment  totally  unable  to  perceive  how 
safely  to  withdraw  it.  Even  then  he  utterly  failed  to 
comprehend  the  deeper  meaning  in  the  other's  words. 

"  I  was  thinking  rather  of  what  it  was  directly  worth 
to  us,"  he  explained,  "and  had  no  conception  you 
would  look  at  it  that  way.  However,  we  are  per 
fectly  willing  to  be  liberal  —  how  much  do  you  want?  " 

For  a  moment  Winston  stared  straight  at  him,  his 
lips  firmly  set,  his  gray  eyes  grown  hard  as  steel. 
Then  he  deliberately  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  rose 
to  his  feet,  one  clinched  hand  resting  on  the  table. 

"  You  may  not  fully  understand  my  position,"  he 
began  quietly,  "  for  in  all  probability  such  a  conception 
is  utterly  beyond  you,  but  I  do  n't  want  a  dollar,  nor  a 
cent.  Good-night." 

He  turned  deliberately  toward  the  entrance,  but  the 
thoroughly  astounded  gambler  leaped  to  his  feet  with 
one  hand  extended  in  sudden  protest.  He  was  angry, 
yet  believed  he  perceived  a  great  light  shining  through 
the  darkness. 

[,18] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT" 

"Hold  on,  Winston,"  he  exclaimed  anxiously; 
"just  a  moment.  I  'd  totally  forgotten  that  you  were 
the  son  of  a  millionaire,  and  therefore  possessed  no 
desire  for  money  like  the  rest  of  us  more  ordinary 
mortals.  Now,  let 's  be  sensible.  By  God,  you  must 
want  something  !  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  have  received  my  final  answer.  I  am  not  in 
the  market." 

Farnham  crushed  a  bitter  oath  between  his  gleaming 
teeth,  and  flung  his  sodden  cigar-butt  to  the  floor. 

"  Do  you  actually  mean  you  are  crazy  enough  to  go 
with  Hicks,  after  all  I  Ve  told  you  ?  " 

"  I  propose  to  discover  for  myself  whether  his  claim 
is  just.  If  it  is,  I  'm  with  him." 

The  gambler  caught  his  breath  sharply,  for  an 
instant  utterly  speechless,  his  face  pallid  with  rage. 
Then  the  fierce,  angry  words  burst  forth  in  unre 
strained  torrent  through  the  calm  of  his  accustomed 
self-control. 

"  Oh,  you  '11  play  hell,  you  infernal  cur.  Do  it,  and 
I  '11  guarantee  you  '11  get  a  bullet  in  the  brain,  even 
if  you  are  old  Winston's  son.  We  Ve  got  a  way  of 
taking  care  of  your  kind  out  here  when  you  get  too 
gay.  You  're  with  him,  are  you  ?  Well,  I  'm  damned 
if  you  ever  get  any  chance  even  to  sit  in  the  game. 
We  '11  get  you,  and  get  you  early,  see  if  we  don't. 
There  are  other  things  besides  money  in  this  world, 
and  you  Ve  got  your  price,  just  as  well  as  every  other 
man.  Perhaps  it 's  silk,  perhaps  it 's  calico  ;  but  you 
bet  it 's  something,  for  you  're  no  angel.  By  God,  I 
believe  I  could  name  it,  even  now." 

["9] 


BETH    NORVELL 

Winston  wheeled,  his  right  hand  thrust  deeply  into 
his  coat  pocket,  his  face  sternly  set. 

"  What,  for  instance  ?  " 

"Well, — just  to  take  a  chance,  —  Beth  Norvell." 

Farnham  never  forgot  the  flame  of  those  gray  eyes, 
or  the  sharp  sting  of  the  indignant  voice. 

"What  do  you  know  regarding  her?  Speak  out, 
damn  you ! " 

The  gambler  laughed  uneasily ;  he  had  seen  that 
look  in  men's  faces  before,  and  knew  its  full,  deadly 
meaning.  He  had  already  gone  to  the  very  limit  of 
safety. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  I  assure  you.  I  never  even  saw  the 
lady,"  he  explained  coldly.  "  But  I  have  been  told 
that  she  was  the  attraction  for  you  in  this  camp ;  and 
I  rather  guess  I  hit  the  bull's-eye  that  time,  even  if 
it  was  a  chance  shot." 

Winston  moistened  his  dry  lips,  his  eyes  never 
wavering  from  off  the  sneering  face  of  the  other. 

"Farnham,"  the  voice  sounding  low  and  distinct, 
"  I  have  got  something  to  say  to  you,  and  you  are 
going  to  listen  to  the  end.  You  see  that?"  He  thrust 
sharply  forward  the  skirt  of  his  short  coat.  "Well, 
that 's  a  thirty-eight,  cocked  and  loaded,  and  I  've  got 
you  covered.  I  know  your  style,  and  if  you  make  a 
single  move  toward  your  hip  I  '11  uncork  the  whole 
six  shots  into  your  anatomy.  Understand  ?  Now,  see 
here  —  I'm  not  on  the  bargain  counter  for  money  or 
anything  else.  I  had  not  the  slightest  personal  inter 
est  in  this  affair  an  hour  ago,  but  I  have  now,  and, 
what  is  more,  I  am  going  directly  after  the  facts. 

[120] 


"HE    MEANS    FIGHT' 

Neither  you,  nor  all  of  your  crowd  put  together,  can 
stop  me  with  either  money,  bullets,  or  women.  I 
don't  bully  worth  !a  cent,  and  I  don't  scare.  You 
took  the  wrong  track,  and  you  Ve  got  me  ready  now 
to  fight  this  out  to  a  finish.  And  the  first  pointer  I 
desire  to  give  you  is  this  —  if  your  lips  ever  again 
besmirch  the  name  of  Beth  Norvell  to  my  knowledge, 
I  '11  hunt  you  down  as  I  would  a  mad  dog.  I  believe 
you  are  a  dirty  liar  and  thief,  and  now  I  'm  going 
after  the  facts  to  prove  it.  Good-night." 

He  backed  slowly  toward  the  curtained  doorway, 
his  gaze  never  wavering  from  off  the  surprised  coun 
tenance  of  the  other,  his  hidden  hand  grasping  the 
masked  revolver.  Then  he  stepped  through  the 
opening  and  disappeared.  Farnham  remained  motion 
less,  his  face  like  iron,  his  teeth  gripping  savagely. 
Then  he  dropped  his  hand  heavily  on  the  table,  still 
staring,  as  if  fascinated,  at  the  quivering  curtains. 

"  By  God,  the  fellow  actually  means  fight,"  he 
muttered  slowly.  "  He  means  fight." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  FORCE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES 

SHE  had  expected  the  probability  of  such  a 
happening,  yet  her  face  perceptibly  paled  while 
perusing  the  brief  note  handed  her  by  the  stage 
manager  upon  coming  forth  from  her  dressing-room. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  compliance,  to  trust 
fortune  in  an  endeavor  to  keep  beyond  reach,  to  turn 
and  run  from  this  new,  threatening  danger  like  a 
frightened  deer.  But  she  recalled  the  financial 
necessity  which  held  her  yet  a  prisoner  at  the  Gayety. 
This  writer  was  partner  in  the  gambling  rooms,  possi 
bly  in  the  theatre  also ;  her  chance  for  escaping  him 
would  be  very  slender.  Besides,  it  might  be  far  better 
to  face  the  man  boldly  and  have  it  over.  Undoubtedly 
a  meeting  must  occur  some  time ;  as  well  now  as  later 
so  that  the  haunting  shadow  would  not  remain  ever 
before  her.  The  color  stole  slowly  back  into  her 
cheeks  as  she  stood  twisting  the  paper  between  her 
fingers,  her  eyes  darkening  with  returning  courage. 

"Where  is  the  gentleman,  Ben  ?  "  she  asked,  steady 
ing  herself  slightly  against  a  fly. 

"  First  box,  Miss ;  right  through  that  narrow  door, 
yonder,"  and  the  man  smiled,  supposing  he  understood. 
"  Very  convenient  arrangement  for  the  stage  ladies." 

She  paused,  her  hand  resting  upon  the  latch,  in  a  final 
effort  to  quiet  her  rapid  breathing  and  gain  firmer 

[122] 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

control  over  her  nerves.  This  was  to  be  a  struggle  for 
which  she  must  steel  herself.  She  stepped  quietly 
within,  and  stood,  silent  and  motionless,  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  drawn  curtains,  gazing  directly  at  the 
sole  occupant  of  the  box,  her  dark  eyes  filled  with 
contemptuous  defiance.  Farnham  lounged  in  the  sec 
ond  chair,  leaning  back  in  affected  carelessness  with  one 
arm  resting  negligently  upon  the  railing,  but  there 
came  into  his  pale  face  a  sudden  glow  of  appreciation 
as  he  swept  his  cool  eyes  over  the  trim  figure,  the 
flushed  countenance  there  confronting  him.  A  realiza 
tion  of  her  fresh  womanly  fairness  came  over  him  with 
such  suddenness  as  to  cause  the  man  to  draw  his  breath 
quickly,  his  eyes  darkening  with  passion. 

"  By  thunder,  Lizzie,  but  you  are  actually  develop 
ing  into  quite  a  beauty  ! "  he  exclaimed  with  almost 
brutal  frankness.  "  Life  on  the  stage  appears  to  agree 
with  you  ;  or  was  it  joy  at  getting  rid  of  me  ?  " 

She  did  not  move  from  where  she  had  taken  her 
first  stand  against  the  background  of  curtains,  nor  did 
the  expression  upon  her  face  change. 

"  I  presume  you  did  not  send  for  me  merely  for  the 
purpose  of  compliment,"  she  remarked,  quietly. 

"Well,  no;  not  exactly,"  and  the  man  laughed  with 
assumed  recklessness  in  an  evident  effort  to  appear  per 
fectly  at  ease.  "  I  was  simply  carried  away  by  the  enthusi 
asm  of  the  moment.  I  was  always,  as  you  will  remember, 
something  of  a  connoisseur  regarding  the  charms  of  the 
sex,  and  you  have  certainly  improved  wonderfully.  Why, 
I  actually  believe  I  might  fall  in  love  with  you  again  if  I 
were  to  receive  the  slightest  encouragement." 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  offering  you  any." 

"  Hardly ;  even  my  egotism  will  not  permit  me  to 
believe  so.  An  iceberg  would  seem  warm  in  compari 
son.  Yet,  at  least,  there  is  no  present  occasion  for  our 
quarrelling.  Sit  down." 

"  Thank  you,  I  prefer  to  remain  standing.  I  pre 
sume  whatever  you  may  desire  to  say  will  not  require 
much  time?" 

Farnham  leaned  forward,  decidedly  jarred  from  out 
his  assumed  mood  of  cold  sarcasm.  He  had  expected 
something  different,  and  his  face  hardened  with  definite 
purpose.  • 

"  That  depends,"  he  said  soberly,  "  on  your  frame 
of  mind.  You  do  not  appear  extremely  delighted  to 
meet  me  again.  Considering  that  it  is  now  fully  three 
years  since  our  last  conversation,  you  might  strive  to 
be,  at  least  outwardly,  cordial." 

She  gathered  up  her  skirts  within  her  left  hand,  and 
turned  calmly  toward  the  door. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

The  man  leaped  impulsively  to  his  feet,  his  cheeks 
burning  with  sudden  animation,  his  previous  mask  of 
reckless  indifference  entirely  torn  away. 

"  Hell,  no ! "  he  exclaimed  warmly,  as  instantly 
pausing  when  she  wheeled  swiftly  about  and  faced  him 
firmly.  "  No,  it  is  not  all.  Of  course,  I  had  a  special 
purpose  in  sending  for  you.  Yet  I  cannot  help  feel 
ing  a  natural  curiosity.  Tell  me,  what  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  That  is  quite  easily  seen ;  I  am  endeavoring  to 
earn  a  living." 

C'H] 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

"A  nice,  quiet,  respectable  sort  of  a  place  you  have 
chosen,  certainly.  It  is  about  the  last  spot  I  should 
ever  have  expected  to  discover  you  in,  knowing  as  I 
do  your  former  puritanical  morals.  Your  tastes  must 
have  greatly  changed  under  the  spur,"  and  he  laughed 
lightly,  in  mockery. 

Miss  Norvell's  lips  curled  in  unconcealed  contempt, 
her  eyes  darkening  with  indignation. 

"  My  present  associations  were  not  entered  into 
from  choice  but  from  necessity.  With  you,  I  under 
stand,  it  is  deliberate  choice." 

The  man  stood  undecided,  fingering  the  edge  of  the 
curtain,  vaguely  realizing  that  he  was  merely  injuring 
his  own  cause  by  continuing  to  anger  her,  yet  far  too 
deeply  hit  to  remain  entirely  silent. 

"You  seem  inclined  to  strike  out  as  hard  as  ever," 
he  retorted,  yet  in  tones  of  manifest  regret.  "  But  just 
now  there  is  not  the  slightest  occasion  for  any  bitter 
ness.  I  am  perfectly  prepared  to  do  the  square  thing, 
and  if  we  can  only  pull  together  pleasantly  for  a  little 
while,  it  will  prove  far  better  for  both  of  us." 

"  In  plainer  words,  you  chance  just  now  to  have 
some  special  use  for  me?" 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  will  look  at  the  situation  from 
my  viewpoint.  But  the  actual  truth  is,  that  when. I 
first  came  up  here  to-night,  I  had  not  the  faintest  sus 
picion  that  it  was  you  I  was  seeking." 

"No?"  doubtfully. 

"  That  is  an  actual  fact,  Lizzie.  I  did  n't  suppose 
you  were  within  a  thousand  miles  of  this  place,"  and 
Farnham  quietly  settled  himself  again  in  his  chair. 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  I  came  up  here  merely  intending  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
an  actress  named  Beth  Norvell.  I  was  never  more 
thoroughly  surprised  in  my  life  than  when  you  first 
came  out  on  the  stage.  For  a  moment  it  knocked  me 
silly.  Say,  you  're  an  artist  all  right,  my  girl.  That 
was  a  great  stunt.  Why,  those  boys  down  below 
hardly  breathed  until  you  disappeared.  You  ought  to 
get  a  chance  in  Chicago ;  you  'd  be  wearing  diamonds. 
Damned  if  I  was  n't  honestly  proud  of  you  myself." 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  sharply,  her  hand  pressed 
tightly  against  her  side. 

"What  —  what  was  it  you  desired  of  Beth  Nor 
vell  ? "  she  questioned. 

Farnham's  white  teeth  gleamed  in  a  sudden  smile  of 
appreciation. 

"Hope  you  are  not  becoming  jealous,"  he  said 
insinuatingly.  "  Positively  no  occasion,  I  assure  you, 
for  it  was  not  to  make  love  to  the  girl,  I  wanted  to  see 
her.  Lord,  no !  This  was  purely  a  business  deal. 
The  truth  is,  I  chanced  to  hear  she  had  a  lover  already, 
and  he  was  the  fellow  I  was  really  after." 

"A  lover?"  she  stepped  toward  him,  her  eyes 
blazing,  her  cheeks  aflame.  "I?  How  dare  you? 
What  can  you  mean  by  so  false  an  insinuation  ? " 

"  Oh,  don't  flare  up  so,  Lizzie,"  and  the  complacent 
gambler  looked  at  her  with  eyes  not  entirely  devoid  of 
admiration.  "  It  really  makes  you  prettier  than  ever, 
but  that  sort  of  thing  cuts  no  ice  with  me.  However, 
what  I  have  just  said  stands :  the  story  flying  around 
here  is  that  you  have  captured  old  Winston's  boy,  and 
a  damned  good  catch  it  is,  too." 

[,26] 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

She  went  instantly  white  as  a  sheet,  her  body 
trembling  like  an  aspen,  her  quivering  lips  faltering 
forth  words  she  could  not  wholly  restrain. 

"The  story,  you  say  —  the  story!  Do  —  do  you 
believe  that  of  me?" 

"  Oh,  that  does  n't  make  any  difference,"  the  brute 
in  him  frankly  enjoying  her  evident  pain.  "  Lord, 
what  do  you  care  about  my  belief?  That  was  all 
passed  and  over  with  long  ago.  All  I  know  is,  the 
fellow  is  gone  on  you,  all  right.  Why,  he  pulled  a 
gun  on  me  last  night  merely  because  I  chanced  to 
mention  your  name  in  his  presence." 

The  telltale  color  swept  back  into  her  cheeks  in 
swift  wave.  For  an  instant  her  eyes  wavered,  then 
came  back  to  the  man's  sneering  face. 

"  Did — did  you  dare  tell  him  ? " 

He  laughed  lightly,  softly  patting  his  hand  on  the 
railing,  his  own  eyes  partially  veiled  by  lowered  lids. 

"  Torn  off  the  mask  of  unimpeachable  virtue,  have 
I  ? "  he  chuckled,  well  pleased.  "  Rather  prefer  not  to 
have  our  late  affair  blowed  to  this  particular  young 
man,  hey  ?  Well,  I  suspected  as  much ;  and  really, 
Lizzie,  you  ought  to  know  I  am  not  that  sort  of  a  cur. 
I  've  held  my  tongue  all  right  so  far,  and  consequently  I 
expect  you  to  do  me  a  good  deed  in  return.  That 's  a 
fair  enough  proposition,  is  n't  it?" 

She  did  not  immediately  answer,  gazing  upon  him 
as  she  might  at  some  foul  snake  which  had  fascinated 
her,  her  breath  coming  in  half-stifled  sobs,  her  hand 
clutching  the  heavy  curtain  for  support. 

"  Oh,  good  God ! "  she  faltered  at  last,  speaking  as 
[127] 


BETH    NORVELL 

though  half  dazed.  "You  must  possess  the  spirit  of  a 
demon.  Why  do  you  continue  to  torture  me  so? 
You  have  no  right  —  no  right;  you  forfeited  all  you 
ever  possessed  years  ago.  Under  Heaven,  I  am  noth 
ing  to  you ;  and  in  your  heart  you  know  I  have  done 
nothing  wrong,  nothing  to  awaken  even  the  foul  sus 
picions  of  jealousy.  Mr.  Winston  has  been  my  friend, 
yet  even  that  friendship — innocent  and  unsullied — is 
already  past;  we  have  parted  for  all  time." 

"Indeed!  You  are  such  a  consummate  actress, 
Lizzie,  I  scarcely  know  what  really  to  believe.  Prob 
ably,  then,  you  no  longer  object  to  my  telling  the  gen 
tleman  the  story? " 

Her  lips  closed  firmly. 

"  I  shall  tell  him  myself." 

"  Oh  !  Then,  after  all  your  fine  words  of  renuncia 
tion,  you  will  see  him  again !  Your  reform  is  soon  ended. 
Well,  my  girl,  there  is  really  no  necessity  for  any  such 
sacrifice  on  your  part.  No  one  here  suspects  anything 
regarding  our  little  affair  excepting  you  and  me.  You 
do  what  I  desire  with  this  Winston,  and  I  'm  mum. 
What  do  you  say?" 

She  sank  back  into  a  chair,  utterly  unable  to  stand 
longer,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"What  —  what  is  it  you  wish?"  she  questioned 
wearily. 

He  leaned  forward  and  placed  his  hand,  almost  in 
caress,  upon  her  skirt,  but  she  drew  the  cloth  hastily 
away,  a  sudden  sob  shaking  her  voice. 

"  Oh,  please,  don't  touch  me !  I  cannot  stand  it — 
only  tell  me  what  it  is  you  wish . " 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

"  I  want  you  to  exercise  your  influence  over  that 
fellow,  and  prevent  his  taking  professional  employ 
ment  at  the  '  Little  Yankee '  mine." 

"Why?  "  she  lifted  her  head  again,  facing  him  with 
questioning  eyes. 

"  Simply  because  his  doing  so  will  interfere  seriously 
with  some  of  my  business  plans — that 's  all." 

"Then  why  don't  you  act  the  part  of  a  man,  and 
go  to  him  yourself?  Why,  in  this,  do  you  prefer 
hiding  behind  the  skirts  of  a  woman  ?  " 

Farnham  laughed  grimly,  in  no  way  embarrassed 
by  the  query. 

"  Good  Lord,  Lizzie !  I  've  been  to  him,  all  right, 
but  the  fellow  is  like  a  stubborn  mule.  He  has  n't 
got  but  one  selling-out  price,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  and 
that  chances  to  be  Beth  Norvell.  You  see  the  point? 
Well,  that 's  exactly  why  I  came  here  to-night.  I 
wanted  to  be  able  to  tender  him  the  goods." 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  remained  pitifully  pleading; 
then  they  suddenly  appeared  to  harden  into  resolute 
defiance.  As  though  moving  in  a  dream,  she  arose 
slowly  to  her  feet,  taking  a  single  step  away  from  him 
toward  the  closed  door. 

"  As  I  have  already  explained,"  she  paused  to  say 
coldly,  "  Mr.  Winston  is  no  more  to  me  than  any 
other  gentleman  whom  I  may  have  chanced  to  meet 
in  friendship.  I  have  not  the  faintest  reason  to  sup 
pose  I  could  influence  his  decision  in  any  matter 
appertaining  to  his  professional  work.  Moreover,  I 
have  not  the  slightest  inclination  to  try." 

"  Do  you  dare  refuse,  in  spite  of  all  I  can  say  to 
[129] 


BETH    NORVKLL 

your  injury  ? "  he  asked,  even  then  doubtful  of  her 
meaning. 

"  I  definitely  decline  to  be  your  catspaw, —  yes. 
Nothing  you  can  relate  truthfully  will  ever  harm  me 
in  the  estimation  of  a  gentleman,  and  I  shall  certainly 
know  how  to  combat  falsehood." 

"Quite  pretty.  Injured  innocence,  I  perceive,  is 
to  be  the  line  of  defence.  What !  are  you  already 
going?" 

"  I  am." 

"Where?" 

She  turned  again,  standing  erect,  her  face  flushing, 
her  hand  upon  the  latch  of  the  door. 

"If  it  is  imperative  that  you  know,  I  will  tell  you. 
I  intend  seeking  Mr.  Winston,  and  informing  him 
exactly  who  and  what  I  am." 

"Now?  at  this  hour  of  the  night?" 

"  Better  now,  and  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  than 
venture  waiting  until  after  you  have  had  an  inning.  I 
am  not  at  all  ashamed  to  confess  the  truth,  if  I  can 
only  be  the  first  to  tell  my  story." 

She  pressed  the  latch  of  the  door,  her  breathing  so 
rapid  as  to  be  positively  painful.  With  an  ill-repressed 
oath,  Farnham  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  rising  anger 
putting  an  end  to  all  prudence. 

"Wait!"  he  exclaimed  gruffly.  "Wait  where  you 
are  until  I  am  done.  You  have  heard  only  a  part  of 
this  thing  so  far.  My  God,  girl !  don't  you  know  me 
well  enough  by  this  time  to  comprehend  that  I  always 
have  my  way,  whatever  the  cost  may  be  to  others  ? 
Lord!  what  do  I  care  for  this  fellow?  or,  for  the 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

matter  of  that,  what  do  I  care  for  you?  I  don't 
permit  people  to  stand  in  my  path ;  and  I  supposed 
you  had  thoroughly  learned  that  lesson,  if  no  other. 
Faith,  you  had  cause  enough,  surely.  So  you  refuse 
all  endeavor  to  keep  Winston  out  of  this  affair,  do 
you?  Perhaps  you  had  better  pause  a  minute,  and 
remember  who  it  is  you  are  dealing  with.  I  reckon 
you  never  saw  any  signs  of  the  quitter  about  me. 
Now,  it 's  true  I  'd  rather  have  you  do  this  business 
up  quietly ;  but  if  you  refuse,  don't  forget  there  are 
other  means  fully  as  effective,  and  a  damn  sight 
quicker."  He  reached  out  suddenly,  grasping  her 
hand.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  the  adage,  f  Dead  men 
tell  no  tales '  ?  "  he  questioned  savagely. 

She  drew  her  hand  sharply  back  from  its  instant  of 
imprisonment,  with  a  smothered  cry,  her  eyes  rilled 
with  undisguised  horror. 

"You  threaten  —  you  threaten  murder?" 
"  Oh,  we  never  use  that  word  out  in  this  country  - 
it  is  considered  far  too  coarse,  my  dear,"  and  Farn- 
ham's  thin  lips  curled  sardonically.  "  We  merely 
f  silence'  our  enemies  in  Colorado.  It  is  an  extremely 
simple  matter;  nothing  at  all  disagreeable  or  boorish 
about  it,  I  can  assure  you.  A  stick  of  dynamite 
dropped  quietly  down  a  shaft-hole,  or  pushed  beneath 
a  bunk  house  —  that's  all.  The  coroner  calls  it  an 
accident ;  the  preachers,  a  dispensation  of  Providence  ; 
while  the  fellows  who  really  know  never  come  back  to 
tell.  If  merely  one  is  desired,  a  well-directed  shot 
from  out  a  cedar  thicket  affords  a  most  gentlemanly 
way  of  shuffling  off  this  mortal  coil." 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  You  would  not !     You  dare  not !  " 

"  I  ?  Why,  such  a  thought  is  preposterous,  of 
course,  for  the  risk  would  be  entirely  unnecessary. 
Quite  evidently  you  are  not  well  acquainted  with  one 
of  the  flourishing  industries  of  this  section,  my  dear. 
There  are  always  plenty  of  men  out  of  a  job  in  this 
camp;  conscience  does  n't  come  high,  and  the  present 
market  price  for  that  sort  of  work  is  only  about 
twenty-five  dollars  a  head.  Not  unreasonable,  all 
things  considered,  is  it  ?  " 

If  she  had  not  thoroughly  known  this  man,  had  not 
previously  sounded  his  depths,  she  might  have  doubted 
his  meaning,  deceived  by  the  lazy  drawl  in  his  soft 
voice,  the  glimmer  of  grim  humor  in  his  eyes.  But 
she  did  know  him ;  she  comprehended  fully  the  slum 
bering  tiger  within,  the  lurking  spirit  of  vindictiveness 
of  his  real  nature,  and  that  knowledge  overcame  her, 
left  her  weak  and  trembling  like  a  frightened  child. 
For  an  instant  she  could  not  articulate,  staring  at  him 
with  white  face  and  horrified  eyes. 

"You  —  you  mean  that?"  and  for  the  first  time  she 
clasped  his  loose  coat  between  her  clutching  fingers. 

"  It  is  hardly  a  subject  to  be  deliberately  selected  for 
jest,"  he  replied  coolly,  "but  if  you  prefer  you  might 

wait  and  see." 

• 

She  stepped  back  from  him,  leaning  heavily  against 
the  frame  of  the  door,  her  face  again  hidden  behind 
uplifted  hands.  The  man  did  not  move,  his  face 
emotionless,  his  lips  tightly  set.  He  was  watching 
her  with  the  intentness  of  a  hawk,  absolutely  certain 
now  of  his  victim.  Suddenly  she  looked  up,  her  eyes 


FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES 

picturing  the  courage  of  desperation.  One  glance  into 
his  face  and  the  woman  stood  transformed,  at  bay,  the 
fierce  spirit  of  battle  flaming  into  her  face. 

"  Have  it  so,  then,"  she  exclaimed  sharply.  "  I 
pledge  myself  to  do  everything  possible  to  prevent  his 
remaining  here."  She  drew  herself  up,  her  eyes  dark 
ening  from  sudden,  uncontrollable  anger.  "  Oh,  how 
I  despise  you,  you  coward,  you  [cur !  I  know  you, 
what  you  are  capable  of,  and  I  do  this  to  preserve  the 
life  of  a  friend ;  but  my  detestation  of  you  is  beyond 
expression  in  words.  My  one  and  greatest  shame  is 
that  I  ever  trusted  you ;  that  I  once  believed  you  to 
be  a  man.  Good  God !  how  could  I  ever  have  been 
so  blind ! " 

She  opened  the  door  with  her  hand  extended  behind 
her,  and  backed  slowly  away,  facing  him  where  he 
stood  motionless,  smiling  still  as  though  her  sudden 
outburst  of  passion  merely  served  to  feed  his  conceit. 

"  Then  I  may  trust  you  in  this  ?  " 

Her  eyes  shone  fairly  black  with  the  depth  of  scorn 
glowing  in  them. 

"Have  —  have  you  ever  known  me  to  lie?"  she 
asked,  her  voice  faltering  from  reaction. 

The  door  closed. 


[133] 


CHAPTER  X 

A  NEW  ALLIANCE 

HER  eyes  blinded  by  a  strange  mist  of  tears,  Beth 
Norvell  clung  to  the  latch  of  the  closed  door, 
fearful  lest  the  man  within  might  decide  to  fol 
low,  endeavoring  to  gaze  about,  while  gaining  control 
over  her  sorely  shattered  nerves.  Strong  as  she  had 
appeared  when  nerved  by  indignation  and  despair,  that 
stormy  interview  with  Farnham  —  his  scarcely  veiled 
threats,  his  heartless  scoffing  —  had  left  her  a  wreck, 
for  the  moment  scarcely  mistress  of  her  own  mind. 
One  thing  alone  stood  forth  as  a  rallying  point  for  all 
her  benumbed  energies  —  she  must  save  Winston  from 
a  real  danger,  the  nature  of  which  she  did  not  in  the 
least  doubt.  The  gambler's  boast  was  no  idle  one ; 
she,  who  had  before  tasted  of  his  depravity,  felt  fully 
convinced  of  his  intention  now.  Yet  what  could  she 
hope  to  do  ?  How  best  might  she  accomplish  that 
imperative  duty  of  rescue? 

There  occurred  to  her  only  one  feasible  plan  —  a 
complete  surrender  of  her  womanly  pride,  an  immedi 
ate  acceptance  of  the  young  man's  proffered  aid  to 
Denver,  with  an  insistence  that  he  also  accompany  her. 
Woman  enough  to  realize  her  power,  she  could  not  but 
have  faith  in  the  results.  The  color  crept  back  in  her 
cheeks  at  this  daring  conception,  for,  after  those  hastily 
uttered  words  of  the  previous  night,  what  construction 

[134] 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

would  he  be  likely  to  put  on  this  sudden  yielding  ?  An 
instant  she  hesitated,  afraid,  shrinking  back  before  the 
sacrifice  as  from  fire.  Then  her  fine  eyes  darkened, 
the  clinging  tears  vanishing  while  her  fingers  clinched 
in  passionate  resolve.  Do  it  ?  Why,  of  course  she 
must  do  it !  What  was  her  pitiful  pride  in  the  balance 
against  his  life?  He  might  never  dream  what  so  great 
a  sacrifice  cost  her;  might  even  despise  her  for  such 
an  exhibition  of  weakness ;  but  she  would  know,  and 
be  the  stronger  in  her  own  soul  from  the  brave  per 
formance  of  duty.  Besides,  she  intended  to  tell  him 
the  whole  miserable  story  of  her  wrecked  life  —  not 
now,  not  even  to-night,  but  some  time,  on  their  way 
back  into  the  world, —  as  they  were  nearing  Denver,  per 
haps,  and  at  the  moment  of  final  parting.  It  almost 
seemed  easy  as  she  faced  the  stern  necessity,  so  easy 
that  her  parted  lips  smiled  sarcastically  when  she  heard 
Farnham  rise  and  leave  the  darkened  box  through  the 
opposite  entrance.  Perhaps,  when  he  comprehended 
it  all,  this  other,  who  had  spoken  love  words  to  her, 
would  understand  where  the  real  blame  lay,  and  so 
prove  manly  enough  to  absolve  her  from  any  concep 
tion  of  evil.  This  hope  was  sweet,  strengthening,  yet 
it  faded  immediately  away.  Ah,  no ;  such  result  was 
not  natural,  as  she  understood  the  world  —  it  was 
always  the  woman  who  bore  the  burden  of  condemna 
tion.  Far  safer  to  expect  nothing,  but  do  the  right 
simply  because  it  was  right.  She  no  longer  questioned 
what  that  would  be.  It  stood  there  before  her  like  a 
blazing  cross  of  flame;  she  must  hold  those  two  men 
apart,  even  though  they  both  trampled  her  heart 

[135] 


BETH    NORVELL 

beneath  their  feet.  This  was  her  destiny,  the  payment 
she  must  return  the  world  for  having  once  made  a  mis 
take.  One  out  of  the  multitude,  she  felt  strong  enough 
in  the  crisis  to  choose  deliberately  the  straight  and  nar 
row  path  leading  through  Gethsemane. 

And  this  very  choosing  gave  back  her  womanhood, 
cleared  her  dazed  brain  for  action,  and  sent  the  red 
blood  throbbing  through  her  veins.  Her  immediate 
surroundings  began  to  take  definite  form.  To  the  left 
the  great,  deserted  stage  extended,  wrapped  in  total 
darkness,  silent,  forsaken,  the  heavy  drop-curtain  low 
ered  to  the  floor.  Through  its  obscuring  folds  resounded 
noisily  a  crash  of  musical  instruments,  the  incessant 
shuffling  of  feet,  a  mingled  hum  of  voices,  evidencing 
that  the  dance  was  already  on  in  full  volume.  Far 
back,  behind  much  protruding  scenery,  a  single  light 
flickered  like  a  twinkling  star,  its  dim,  uncertain 
radiance  the  sole  guide  through  the  intricacies  of 
cluttered  passageways  leading  toward  the  distant  stage 
entrance.  Half  frightened  at  this  gloomy  loneliness, 
the  girl  moved  gingerly  forward,  her  skirts  gathered 
closely  about  her  slender  figure,  with  anxious  eyes 
scanning  the  gloomy  shadows  in  vague  suspicion. 
Suddenly  a  hand  gripped  her  extended  wrist,  and  she 
gazed  for  a  startled  instant  into  fiercely  burning  eyes, 
her  own  heart  throbbing  with  nervous  excitement. 

"Vat  vas  he  to  you?  Answer  me!  Answer  me 
quick!" 

The  blood  came  back  into  her  blanched  cheeks  with 
a  sudden  rush  of  anger.  Instantly  indignation  swept 
back  the  mists  of  fear.  With  unnatural  strength  she 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

wrenched  free  her  captured  hand,  and  sternly  fronted 
the  other,  a  barely  recognized  shadow  in  the  gloom. 

"Permit  me  to  pass,"  she  exclaimed,  clearly.  "How 
dare  you  hide  here  to  halt  me?" 

The  other  exhibited  her  teeth,  gleaming  white  and 
savage  behind  parted  lips,  yet  she  never  stirred. 

"Dare?  Pah!  you  vaste  time  to  talk  so,"  she  cried 
brokenly,  her  voice  trembling  from  passion.  "You 
no  such  fine  lady  now,  senorita.  You  see  dis  knife ; 
I  know  how  use  eet  quick.  Bah!  you  go  to  him  like 
all  de  rest,  but  I  vill  know  de  truth  first,  if  I  have  to 
cut  eet  out  you.  So  vat  ees  de  Senor  Farnham  to  you  ? 
Say  quick!" 

The  American  remained  silent,  motionless,  her 
breath  quickening  under  the  threat,  her  eyes  striving 
to  see  clearly  the  face  of  the  one  confronting  her. 

"Do  you  expect  to  frighten  me?"  she  asked,  coldly, 
her  earlier  anger  strangely  changing  to  indifference. 
"It  is  you  who  wastes  time,  senorita,  for  I  care  little 
for  your  knife.  Only  it  would  be  an  extremely  foolish 
thing  for  you  to  do,  as  I  have  not  come  between  you 
and  your  lover." 

The  impulsive  Mexican  dancer  laughed,  but  with 
no  tone  of  joy  perceptible. 

"My  lofer!  Mother  of  God!  sometime  I  think  I 
hate,  not  lofe.  He  vas  like  all  you  Americanos,  cold 
as  de  ice.  He  play  vis  Mercedes,  and  hurt — gracious, 
how  he  hurt!  But  I  must  be  told.  Vat  vas  he  to 
you?  Answer  me  dat." 

Beth  Norvell's  eyes  softened  in  sudden  pity.  The 
unconscious  appeal  within  that  broken  voice,  which 

[-37] 


BETH    NORVELL 

had  lost  all  semblance  of  threat,  seemed  to  reveal 
instantly  the  whole  sad  story,  and  her  heart  gave 
immediate  response.  She  reached  out,  touching  gently 
the  hand  in  which  she  saw  the  gleam  of  the  knife- 
blade.  There  was  no  fear  in  her  now,  nothing  but  an 
infinite  womanly  sympathy. 

"He  is  nothing  to  me,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "abso 
lutely  nothing.  I  despise  him — that  is  all.  He  is 
unworthy  the  thought  of  any  woman." 

The  slender  figure  of  the  Mexican  swayed  as  though 
stricken  by  a  blow,  the  fierce,  tigerish  passion  dying 
out  of  her  face,  her  free  hand  seeking  her  throat  as 
though  choking. 

"Nothing?"  she  gasped,  incredulously.  "Sapristi, 
I  think  you  lie,  senorita.  Nothing?  Vy  you  go  to 
him  in  secret?  Vy  you  stay  and  talk  so  long?  I 
not  understand." 

"He  sent  for  me;  he  wished  me  to  aid  him  in  a 
business  matter." 

The  other  stared  incredulous,  her  form  growing 
rigid  with  gathering  suspicion  that  this  fair  American 
was  only  endeavoring  to  make  her  a  fool  through  the 
use  of  soft  speech.  The  white  teeth  gleamed  again 
maliciously. 

"  You  speak  false  to  Mercedes,"  she  cried  hotly, 
her  voice  trembling.  "Vy  he  send  for  you,  senorita? 
You  know  him  ?  " 

There  was  a  bare  instant  of  seeming  hesitation,  then 
the  quiet,  better  controlled  voice  answered  soberly: 

"Yes,  in  the  East,  three  years  ago." 

Like  a  flash  of  powder,  the  girl  of  the  hot-blooded 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

South  burst  into  fresh  flame  of  passion,  her  foot 
stamping  the  floor,  her  black  eyes  glowing  with  unre 
strained  anger. 

"  Dios  de  Dios  /  Eet  ees  as  I  thought.  He  lofe 
you,  not  Mercedes.  Vy  I  not  kill  you?  —  hey?" 

Miss  Norvell  met  her  fiercely  threatening  look,  her 
single  step  of  advance,  without  tremor  or  lowering  of 
the  eyes.  She  even  released  her  grasp  upon  the 
uplifted  knife,  as  if  in  utter  contempt.  For  a  moment 
they  confronted  each  other,  and  then,  as  suddenly  as 
she  had  broken  into  flame,  the  excitable  young  Mexi 
can  burst  into  tears.  As  though  this  unexpected 
exhibition  of  feeling  had  inspired  the  action,  the  other 
as  quickly  decided  upon  her  course. 

"  Listen  to  me,  girl,"  she  exclaimed  gravely,  again 
grasping  the  lowered  knife  hand.  "  I  am  going  to 
trust  you  implicitly.  You  feel  deeply ;  you  will 
understand  when  I  tell  you  all.  You  call  me  a  fine 
lady  because  I  hold  myself  aloof  from  the  senseless 
revelry  of  this  mining  camp ;  and  you  believe  you  hate 
me  because  you  suppose  I  feel  above  you.  But  you 
are  a  woman,  and,  whatever  your  past  life  may  have 
been,  your  heart  will  respond  to  the  story  of  a  woman's 
trouble.  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  mine,  not  so  much  for 
my  sake  as  for  your  own.  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  knife  ; 
why,  its  sharp  point  would  be  almost  welcome,  were  it 
not  that  I  have  serious  work  to  do  in  the  world  before 
I  die.  And  you  are  going  to  aid  me  in  accomplish 
ing  it.  You  say  you  do  not  really  know  now  whether 
you  truly  love  or  hate  this  man,  this  Farnham.  But 
I  know  for  myself  beyond  all  doubt.  All  that  once 

ET39] 


BETH    NORVELL 

might  have  blossomed  into  love  in  my  heart  has  been 
withered  into  hatred,  for  I  know  him  to  be  a  moral 
leper,  a  traitor  to  honor,  a  remorseless  wretch,  unworthy 
the  tender  remembrance  of  any  woman.  You  sup 
pose  I  went  to  him  this  night  through  any  deliberate 
choice  of  my  own  ?  Almighty  God,  no !  I  went 
because  I  was  compelled;  because  there  was  no  possi 
ble  escape.  Now,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  why." 

Mercedes,  the  tears  yet  clinging  to  her  long,  black 
lashes,  stood  motionless,  gazing  at  the  other  with 
fascination,  her  slender,  scarlet-draped  figure  quivering 
to  the  force  of  these  impetuous  words.  She  longed, 
yet  dreaded,  to  hear,  her  own  lips  refusing  utterance. 
But  Beth  Norvell  gave  little  opportunity ;  her  deter 
mination  made,  she  swept  forward  unhesitatingly.  As 
though  fearful  of  being  overheard,  even  in  the  midst  of 
that  loneliness,  she  leaned  forward,  whispering  one 
quick,  breathless  sentence  of  confession.  The  startled 
dancer  swayed  backward  at  the  words,  clutching  at  her 
breast,  the  faint  glimmer  of  light  revealing  her  staring 
eyes  and  pallid  cheeks. 

"  Mother  of  God ! "  she  sobbed  convulsively. 
"  No,  no  !  not  dat !  He  could  not  lie  to  me  like  dat !  " 

"  Lie  ? "  in  bitter  scornfulness.  "  Lie  !  Why,  it  is  his 
very  life  to  lie  —  to  women.  God  pity  us!  This 
world  seems  filled  with  just  such  men,  and  we  are  their 
natural  victims.  Love  ?  Their  only  conception  of  it  is 
passion,  and,  that  once  satiated,  not  even  ordinary  kind 
ness  is  left  with  which  to  mock  the  memory.  In 
Heaven's  name,  girl,  in  your  life  have  you  not  long 
since  learned  this  ?  Now,  I  will  tell  you  what  this 

[140] 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

monster  wanted  of  me  to-night."  She  paused,  scarcely 
knowing  how  best  to  proceed,  or  just  how  much  of 
the  plot  this  other  might  already  comprehend. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  c  Little  Yankee ' 
mine  ? "  she  questioned. 

"  Si,  senorita,"  the  voice  faltering  slightly,  the  black 
eyes  drooping.  "  Eet  is  up  in  de  deep  canyon  yon 
der ;  I  know  eet." 

"He  told  me  about  it,"  Miss  Norvell  continued  more 
calmly.  "  He  is  having  trouble  with  those  people  out 
there.  There  is  something  wrong,  and  he  is  afraid  of 
exposure.  You  remember  the  young  man  who  walked 
home  with  me  last  night?  Well,  he  is  a  mining  engi 
neer.  He  has  agreed  to  examine  into  the  claims  of 
the  *  Little  Yankee'  people,  and  this  —  this  Farnham 
wants  him  stopped.  You  understand  ?  He  sent  for 
me  to  use  my  influence  and  make  him  go  away.  I 
refused,  and  then  this  —  this  creature  threatened  to  kill 
Mr.  Winston  if  he  remained  in  camp,  and  —  and  I 
know  he  will." 

The  Mexican's  great  black  eyes  widened,  but  not 
with  horror.  Suddenly  in  the  silent  pause  she  laughed. 

"Si,  si;  now  I  know  all  —  you  lofe  dis  man. 
Buenof  I  see  eet  as  eet  vas." 

The  telltale  red  blood  swept  to  the  roots  of  Miss 
Norvell's  hair,  but  her  indignant  reply  came  swift  and 
vehement. 

"  No,  stop  !  Never  dare  to  speak  such  words.  I  am 
not  like  that !  Can  you  think  of  nothing  except  the 
cheap  masquerade  of  love?  Have  you  never  known 
any  true,  pure  friendship  existing  between  man  and 


BETH    NORVELL 

woman  ?  This  mining  engineer  has  been  good  to  me ; 
he  has  proved  himself  a  gentleman.  It  is  not  love 
which  makes  me  so  ^anxious  now  to  serve  him,  to  warn 
him  of  imminent  danger  —  it  is  gratitude,  friendship, 
common  humanity.  Is  it  impossible  for  you  to  com 
prehend  such  motives?" 

The  other  touched  her  for  the  first  time  with  extended 
hand,  her  face  losing  much  of  its  previous  savagery. 

"  I  know  so  ver'  leettle  'bout  such  kinds  of  peoples, 
senorita,"  she  explained  regretfully,  her  voice  low,  "de 
kind  vat  are  good  and  gentle  and  vidout  vantin' 
somting  for  eet.  Eet  ees  not  de  kinds  I  meet  vis 
ver'  much.  Dey  be  all  alike  vis  me — lofe,  lofe,  lofe,  till 
I  get  seek  of  de  vord  —  only  de  one,  an'  I  not  know 
him  ver'  veil  yet.  Maybe  he  teach  me  vat  you 
mean  some  day.  He  talk  better,  not  like  a  fool,  an'  he 
not  try  to  make  me  bad.  Is  dat  eet,  senorita  ?  " 

"Yes;  who  is  it  you  mean?" 

"He?  Oh!  it  vas  most  odd,  yet  I  do  not  laugh, 
senorita.  I  know  not  vy,  but  he  make  me  to  feel  — 
vat  you  calls  eet? — si,  de  respect;  I  tink  him  to  be  de 
good  man,  de  gentle.  He  was  at  de  *  Little  Yankee ' 
too.  I  vonder  vas  all  good  out  at  de  f  Little  Yankee '  ? 
Sapristi!  he  vas  such  a  funny  man  to  talk  —  he  sput 
ter  like  de  champagne  ven  it  uncorked.  I  laugh  at 
him,  but  I  like  him  just  de  same,  for  he  act  to  me  like 
I  vas  de  lady,  de  ver'  fine  lady.  I  never  forget  dat. 
You  know  him,  senorita?  So  big  like  a  great  bear, 
vis  de  beautiful  red  hair  like  de  color  of  dis  dress. 
No?  He  so  nice  I  just  hate  to  have  to  fool  him,  but 
maybe  I  get  chance  to  make  eet  all  up  some  day — you 

[' 4*] 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

tink  so  ?  Merciful  saints  !  Ve  are  queer,  ve  vomens  ! 
Eet  vas  alvays  de  voman  vat  does  like  de  vay  you  do, 
hey  ?  Ve  vas  mooch  fools  all  de  time." 

"Yes,  we  are  fmuch  fools';  that  seems  ordained. 
Yet  there  are  true,  noble  men  in  this  world,  Mercedes, 
and  blessed  is  she  who  can  boast  of  such  a  friendship. 
This  Mr.  Winston  is  one,  and,  perhaps,  your  stutter 
ing  giant  may  prove  another."  She  caught  at  a  straw 
of  hope  in  thus  interesting  the  girl.  "  So  he  is  at  the 
f  Little  Yankee'  ?  and  you  wish  to  serve  him?  Then 
listen ;  he  is  in  danger  also  if  this  scheme  of  revenge 
carries  —  in  danger  of  his  life.  Dynamite  does  not 
pick  out  one  victim,  and  permit  all  others  to  escape." 

"  Dynamite? " 

"  That  was  Farnham's  threat,  and  God  knows  he  is 
perfectly  capable  of  it.  Now,  will  you  aid  me  ?  " 

The  young  Mexican  girl  stood  staring  with  parted 
lips. 

"  Help  you  how?     Vat  you  mean?" 

"  Warn  the  men  of  the  '  Little  Yankee.' ' 

The  other  laughed  behind  her  white  teeth,  yet  with 
no  mirth  in  the  sound. 

"Ah,  maybe  I  see,  senorita;  you  try  make  a  fool 
out  me.  No,  I  not  play  your  game.  You  try  turn 
me  against  Senor  Farnham.  I  tink  you  not  catch 
Mercedes  so." 

"You  do  not  believe  me?" 

"  Sapristif  I  know  not  for  sure.  Maybe  I  help, 
maybe  I  not.  First  I  talk  vis  Senor  Farnham,  an' 
den  I  know  vether  you  lie,  or  tell  true.  Vatever  ees 
right  I  do." 

[H3] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"Then  permit  me  to  pass." 

Miss  Norvell  took  a  resolute  step  forward,  clasp 
ing  her  skirts  closely  to  keep  them  from  contact  with 
the  dusty  scenery  crowding  the  narrow  passage.  The 
jealous  flame  within  the  black  eyes  of  the  Mexican 
dimmed. 

"You  can  no  pass  dat  vay,"  she  explained  swiftly, 
touching  the  other's  sleeve. 

"Not  through  the  stage  door?" 

The  other  shook  her  head  doggedly. 

"  Eet  is  alvay  locked,  senorita." 

Beth  Norvell  turned  about  in  dismay,  her  eyes 
pleading,  her  breath  quickening. 

"You  mean  we  are  shut  in  here  for  the  night? 
Is  n't  there  any  way  leading  out?  " 

"  Oh,  si,  si,"  and  Mercedes  smiled,  waving  her 
hands.  "Zar  is  vay  yonder  vare  de  orchestra  goes. 
Eet  leads  to  de  hall ;  I  show  you." 

"Did  he  know?" 

"  Vat  ?  Senor  Farnham  ?  No  doubt,  senorita. 
Come,  eet  ees  but  de  step." 

The  bewildered  American  hung  back,  her  eyes  filled 
with  dread  resting  upon  the  black  shadow  of  the  cur 
tain,  from  behind  which  clearly  arose  the  strains  of  a 
laboring  orchestra,  mingling  with  the  discordant  noise 
of  a  ribald  crowd.  Farnham  understood  she  was 
locked  in ;  knew  she  might  hope  to  escape  only 
through  that  scene  of  pollution ;  beyond  doubt,  he 
waited  in  its  midst  to  gloat  over  her  degradation,  pos 
sibly  even  to  accost  her.  She  shrank  from  such  an 
ordeal  as  though  she  fronted  pestilence. 

[144] 


A    NEW    ALLIANCE 

"  Oh,  not  that  way ;  not  through  the  dance  hall ! " 

she  exclaimed. 

Mercedes  clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  To  her 
it  appeared  amusing. 

"Holy  Mother!  Vy  not?  Eet  make  me  laugh 
to  see  you  so  ver'  nice.  Vat  you  'fraid  'bout? 
Vas  eet  de  men  ?  Pah  !  I  snap  my  fingers  at  all  of 
dem  dis  vay.  Dey  not  say  boo !  But  come,  now, 
Mercedes  show  you  vay  out  vere  you  no  meet  vis 
de  men,  no  meet  vis  anybody.  Poof,  eet  ees  easy." 

She  danced  lightly  away,  her  hand  beckoning,  her 
black  eyes  aglow  with  aroused  interest.  Reluctantly 
the  puzzled  American  slowly  followed,  dipping  down 
into  the  black  labyrinth  leading  beneath  the  stage. 
Amid  silence  and  darkness  Mercedes  grasped  her  arm 
firmly,  leading  unhesitatingly  forward.  Standing  within 
the  glare  of  light  streaming  through  the  partially  open 
door,  Miss  Norvell  drew  a  sudden  breath  of  relief. 
The  chairs  and  benches,  piled  high  along  the  side  of 
the  great  room,  left  a  secluded  passageway  running 
close  against  the  wall.  Along  this  the  two  young 
women  moved  silently,  catching  merely  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  wild  revelry  upon  the  other  side  of 
that  rude  barrier,  unseen  themselves  until  within  twenty 
feet  of  the  street  door.  There  Miss  Norvell  hesitated, 
her  anxious  eyes  searching  the  mixed  crowd  of  dancers 
now  for  the  first  time  fully  revealed.  Even  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  riot,  shocked  into  silence  at  the 
inexpressible  profligacy  displayed,  and  ashamed  of  her 
presence  in  the  midst  of  it,  a  merry  peal  of  laughter 
burst  through  the  parted  lips  of  the  Mexican  dancer. 

CHS] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Dios  de  Dios,  but  I  had  all  forgot  dis  vas  your 
night  for  de  dance,  senor.  But  you  no  so  easy  forget 
Mercedes,  hey  ? " 

He  stood  directly  before  them,  plainly  embarrassed, 
gripping  his  disreputable  hat  in  both  hands  like  a  great 
bashful  boy,  his  face  reddening  under  her  smiling  eyes, 
his  voice  appearing  to  catch  within  his  throat.  Mer 
cedes  laughed  again,  patting  his  broad  shoulder  with  her 
white  hand  as  though  she  petted  a  great,  good-natured 
dog.  Then  her  sparkling  black  eyes  caught  sight  of 
something  unexpected  beyond,  and,  in  an  instant,  grew 
hard  with  purpose. 

"  Holy  Mother  !  but  eet  's  true  he  ees  here,  senorita 
— see  yonder  by  de  second  vindow,"  she  whispered 
fiercely.  "  Maybe  it  vas  so  he  tink  to  get  you  once 
more,  but  he  not  looked  dis  vay  yet.  Bueno!  I 
make  him  dance  vis  me.  Dis  man  Stutter  Brown,  an' 
he  go  vis  you  to  de  hotel ;  ees  eet  not  so,  amigo?  " 

"  I-I  have  no  t-t-time,"  he  stuttered,  totally  con 
fused.  "  Y-you  see,  I  'm  in  a  h-hell  of  a  h-h-hurry." 

"  Pah ;  eet  vill  not  take  five  minute,  an'  I  be  here 
ven  you  come  back.  Si,  senor,  I  vait  for  you  for  de 
dance,  sure."  She  turned  eagerly  to  Miss  Norvell. 
"You  go  vis  him,  senorita;  he  ver'  good  man,  I, 
Mercedes,  know." 

The  American  looked  at  them  both,  her  eyes  slightly 
smiling  in  understanding. 

"Yes,"  she  assented  quietly,  "I  believe  he  is." 


[146] 


CHAPTER  XI 

HALF-CONFIDENCES 

WHATEVER  Stutter  Brown  may  secretly 
have  thought  concerning  this  new  arrange 
ment  of  his  affairs,  he  indulged  in  no  outward 
manifestations.  Not  greatly  gifted  in  speech,  he  was 
nevertheless  sufficiently  prompt  in  action.  The  swift, 
nervous  orders  of  the  impulsive  Mexican  dancer 
had  sufficiently  impressed  him  with  one  controlling 
idea,  that  something  decidedly  serious  was  in  the  air ; 
and,  as  she  flitted  across  the  room,  looking  not  unlike 
a  red  bird,  he  watched  her  make  directly  toward  a 
man  who  was  leaning  negligently  back  in  a  chair 
against  the  farther  wall.  For  a  moment  he  continued 
to  gaze  through  the  obscuring  haze  of  tobacco  smoke, 
uncertain  as  to  the  other's  identity,  his  eyes  growing 
angry,  his  square  jaw  set  firm. 

"  W-who  is  the  f-f-feller  ? "  he  questioned  gruffly. 
"  Wh-what  's  she  m-mean  1-leavin'  me  to  go  over 
th-thar  ter  h-him?" 

Beth  Norvell  glanced  up  frankly  into  his  puzzled 
face. 

"  She  has  gone  to  keep  him  away  from  me,"  she 
explained  quietly.  "  His  name  is  Farnham." 

Brown's  right  hand  swung  back  to  his  belt,  his  teeth 
gripped  like  those  of  a  fighting  dog. 

"Hell!"  he  ejaculated,  forgetting  to  stutter.     "Is 

[147] 


BETH    NORVELL 

that  him  ?      Biff  Farnham  ?      An'  he  's  after  you    is 
he,  the  damned  Mormon?" 

She  nodded,  her  cheeks  growing  rosy  from  embarrass 
ment.  Brown  cast  a  quick,  comprehensive  glance  from 
the  face  of  the  woman  to  where  the  man  was  now  lean 
ing  lazily  against  the  wall. 

"All  r-right,  little  g-girl,"  he  said  slowly,  and  with 
grave  deliberation.  "  I-I  reckon  I  n-never  went  b-back 
on  any  p-pard  yet.  B-blamed  if  y-y-you  hate  thet 
c-cuss  any  worse  th-than  I  do.  Y-you  bet,  I  '11  take 
you  out  o'  h-h-here  safe  'nough." 

He  drew  her  more  closely  against  his  side,  completely 
shielding  her  slender  figure  from  observationby  the  inter 
vention  of  his  giant  body,  and  thus  they  passed  out 
together  into  the  gloomy  but  still  riotous  street.  A  block 
or  more  down,  under  the  glaring  light  of  a  noisy  saloon, 
the  girl  looked  up  questioningly  into  his  boyish  face. 

"Are  you  Stutter  Brown,  of  the  '  Little  Yankee'?" 
she  asked  doubtfully. 

"  I-I  reckon  you  've  c-c-called  the  t-turn,  Miss." 

She  hes'itated  a  moment,  but  there  was  something 
about  this  big,  awkward  fellow,  with  his  sober  eyes  and 
good-natured  face,  which  gave  her  confidence. 

"Do  —  do  you  know  a  Mr.  Ned  Winston?" 

He  shook  his  head,  the  locks  of  red  hair  showing 
conspicuously  under  the  wide  hat-brim. 

"  I  r-reckon  not.  Leastwise,  don't  s-s-sorter  seem 
to  r-recall  no  such  n-name,  Miss.  Was  the  g-gent  a 
f-friend  o'  your  'n  ?  " 

"  Y-yes.  He  is  a  mining  engineer,  and,  I  have  been 
told,  is  under  engagement  at  the  *  Little  Yankee.' ' 

[148] 


HALF-CONFIDENCES 

Brown's  eyes  hardened,  looking  down  into  the 
upturned  face,  and  his  hands  clinched  in  sudden 
awakening  suspicion. 

"You  d-did,  hey?"  he  questioned  sullenly.  "Wh- 
who  told  you  that  r-rot  ? " 

"  Farnham." 

The  man  uttered  an  unrestrained  oath,  fully  believ 
ing  now  that  he  was  being  led  into  a  cunningly  devised 
trap.  His  mental  operations  were  slow,  but  he  was 
swift  and  tenacious  enough  in  prejudice.  He  stopped 
still,  and  the  two  stood  silently  facing  each  other,  the 
same  vague  spectre  of  suspicion  alive  in  the  minds  of 
both. 

"  Farnham,"  the  man  muttered,  for  one  instant 
thrown  off  his  guard  from  surprise.  "  How  th-the 
hell  d-d-did  he  g-git  hold  o'  that?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  is  n't  it  true?" 

He  turned  her  face  around  toward  the  light,  not 
roughly,  yet  with  an  unconscious  strength  which  she 
felt  irresistible,  and  looked  at  her  searchingly,  his  own 
eyes  perceptibly  softening. 

"Y-you  sure  1-1-look  all  fight,  little  g-girl,"  he 
admitted,  slowly,  "but  I  've  h-heard  th-th-that  feller 
was  hell  with  w-women.  I-I  reckon  you  b-better  go 
b-back  to  Farnham  an'  find  out." 

He  paused,  wiping  his  perspiring  face  with  the  back 
of  his  hand,  his  cheeks  reddening  painfully  under  her 
unfaltering  gaze.  Finally  he  blurted  out: 

"Say,  w-who  are  you,  anyhow?" 

"Beth  Norvell,  an  actress." 

"You  kn-kn-know  Farnham?" 


BETH    NORVELL 

She  bent  her  head  in  regretful  acknowledgment. 

"An'  you  kn-kn-know  the  senorita?" 

"Yes,  a  very  little." 

Stutter  Brown  wet  his  lips,  shifting  awkwardly. 

"Well,  y-you  '11  excuse  me,  M-Miss,"  he  stuttered 
in  an  excess  of  embarrassment,  yet  plunging  straight 
ahead  with  manly  determination  to  have  it  out.  "I-I 
ain't  much  used  t-t-to  this  sorter  th-thing,  an'  maybe 
I-I  ain't  got  no  r-r-right  ter  be  a-botherin'  you  with 
m-my  affairs,  nohow.  But  you  s-see  it 's  th-this  way. 
I  Ve  sorter  t-took  a  big  1-1-likin'  to  that  dancin'  girl. 
Sh-she  's  a  darn  sight  n-n-nearer  my  s-style  than  any 
thing  I  've  been  up  a-against  fer  s-some  time.  I-I 
don't  just  kn-know  how  it  h-h-happened,  it  was  so 
blame  s-sudden,  b-but  she  's  got  her  1-1-lasso  'bout  me 
all  r-right.  But  Lord!  sh-she 's  all  fun  an'  laugh; 
sh-sh-she  don't  seem  to  take  n-nothin'  serious  like,  an' 
you  c-can't  make  much  ou-ou-out  o'  that  kind;  you 
n -never  know  just  how  to  t-take  'em;  leastwise,  I  don't. 
N-now,  I  'm  a  plain  s-s-sorter  man,  an'  I  m-make 
bold  ter  ask  ye  a  m-mighty  plain  sorter  qu-question — 
is  that  there  M-M- Mercedes  on  the  squar?" 

He  stood  there  motionless  before  her,  a  vast,  uncer 
tain  bulk  in  the  dim  light,  but  he  was  breathing  hard, 
and  the  deep  earnestness  of  his  voice  had  impressed 
her  strongly. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  that?"  she  questioned,  for 
the  moment  uncertain  how  to  answer  him.  "I  scarcely 
know  her;  I  know  almost  nothing  regarding  her  life." 

"Y-you,  you  are  a  w-woman,  Miss,"  he  insis 
ted,  doggedly,  "an',  I  t-take  it,  a  woman  who  will 


HAL  F-C  ONFIDENCES 

u-understand  such  th-th-things.  T-tell  me,  is  she  on 
the  squar?" 

"Yes,"  she  responded,  warmly.  "She  has  not  had 
much  chance,  I  think,  and  may  have  made  a  mistake, 
perhaps  many  of  them,  but  I  believe  she  's  on  the 
square." 

"Did — did  sh-she  come  out  t-to  our  m-m-mine  spy 
ing  for  Farnham?" 

"Really,  I  don't  know." 

His  grave  face  darkened  anxiously;  she  could  per 
ceive  the  change  even  in  that  shadow,  and  distinguish 
the  sharp  grind  of  his  teeth. 

"Damn  him,"  he  muttered,  his  voice  bitter  with 
hate.  "It  w-would  be  1-1-like  one  of  his  1-low-lived 
tricks.  Wh-what  is  that  g-girl  to  him,  anyhow?" 

It  was  no  pleasant  task  to  hurt  this  man  deliberately, 
yet,  perhaps,  it  would  be  best.  Anyway,  it  was  not  in 
Beth  Norvell's  nature  either  to  lie  or  to  be  afraid. 

"He  has  been  her  friend;  there  are  some  who  say 
her  lover." 

He  stared  fixedly  at  her,  as  though  she  had  struck 
him  a  stinging,  unexpected  blow. 

"Him?     A-an'  you  s-s-say  she  's  on  the  squar?" 

"Yes;  I  say  she  is  on  the  square,  because  I  think 
so.  It 's  a  hard  life  she  's  had  to  live,  and  no  one  has 
any  right  to  judge  her  by  strict  rules  of  propriety.  I 
may  not  approve,  neither  do  I  condemn.  Good  women 
have  been  deceived  before  now — have  innocently  done 
wrong  in  the  eyes  of  the  world — and  this  Mercedes  is 
a  woman.  I  know  him  also,  know  him  to  be  a  cold 
blooded,  heartless  brute.  She  is  merely  a  girl,  pulsating 


BETH    NORVELL 

with  the  fiery  blood  of  the  South,  an  artist  to  her  fingers' 
tips,  wayward  and  reckless.  It  would  not  be  very  diffi 
cult  for  one  of  that  nature  to  be  led  astray  by  such  a 
consummate  deceiver  as  he  is.  I  pity  her,  but  I  do  not 
reproach..  Yet  God  have  mercy  on  him  when  she 
awakes  from  her  dream,  for  that  time  is  surely  coming, 
perhaps  is  here  already ;  and  the  girl  is  on  the  square. 
I  believe  it,  she  is  on  the  square." 

For  a  silent,  breathless  moment  Brown  did  not  stir, 
did  not  once  take  his  eyes  from  off  her  face.  She  saw 
his  hand  slip  down  and  close  hard  over  the  butt  of  his 
dangling  revolver.  Then  he  drew  a  deep  breath,  his 
head  thrown  back,  his  great  shoulders  squared. 

"  D-damn,  but  that  helps  me,"  he  said  soberly. 
"It  —  it  sure  does.  G-good-night,  little  g-girl." 

"Are  you  going  to  leave  me  now?" 

"  Why,  sure.  Th-this  yere  is  the  h-h-hotel,  ain  't 
it  ?  W-well,  I  Ve  got  t-to  be  back  to  th-the  '  Little 
Yankee  '  afore  d-d-daylight,  or  thar  '11  be  h-hell  to  pay, 
an'  I  sure  m-mean  to  see  her  first,  an' — an' — maybe 
h-him." 

She  stood  there  in  thoughtful  perplexity,  oblivious 
to  all  else  in  her  strange  surroundings,  watching  the 
dark  shadow  of  his  burly  figure  disappear  through  the 
dim  light.  There  was  a  strength  of  purpose,  a  grim, 
unchangeable  earnestness  about  the  man  which  im 
pressed  her  greatly,  which  won  her  admiration.  He 
was  like  some  great  faithful  dog,  ready  to  die  at  his 
master's  bidding.  Down  in  her  heart  she  wondered 
what  would  be  the  tragic  end  of  this  night's  confidence. 

"There  goes  a  good  friend,"  she  said  slowly,  under 


HAL  F-C  ONFIDENCES 

her  breath,  "and  a  bad  enemy."  Then  she  turned 
away,  aroused  to  her  own  insistent  mission  of  warning, 
and  entered  the  silent  hotel. 

The  night  clerk,  a  mere  boy  with  pallid  cheeks  and 
heavy  eyes  bespeaking  dissipation,  reclined  on  a  couch 
behind  the  rough  counter,  reading  a  Denver  paper. 
He  was  alone  in  the  room,  excepting  a  drunken  man 
noisily  slumbering  in  an  arm-chair  behind  the  stove. 
Miss  Norvell,  clasping  her  skirts  tightly,  picked  her 
way  forward  across  the  littered  floor,  the  necessity  for 
immediate  action  rendering  her  supremely  callous  to 
all  ordinary  questions  of  propriety. 

"  Can  you  inform  me  if  Mr.  Winston  is  in  his 
room  ?  "  she  questioned,  leaning  across  the  counter  until 
she  could  see  the  clerk's  surprised  face. 

The  young  fellow  smiled  knowingly,  rising  instantly 
to  his  feet. 

"  Not  here  at  all,"  he  returned  pleasantly.  "  He 
left  just  before  noon  on  horseback.  Heard  him  say 
something  'bout  an  engineering  job  he  had  up  Echo 
Canyon.  Reckon  that 's  where  he  's  gone.  Anything 
important,  Miss  Norvell  ? " 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE  COVER  OF  DARKNESS 

BETH  NORVELL  did  not  remember  ever  hav 
ing  fainted  in  her  life,  yet  for  a  moment  after 
these  words  reached  her,  all  around  grew  dark, 
and  she  was  compelled  to  grasp  the  counter  to  keep 
from  falling.  The  strain  of  the  long  night,  coupled 
with  such  unexpected  news  proving  she  had  arrived 
too  late  with  her  warning,  served  to  daze  her  brain,  to 
leave  her  utterly  unable  either  to  think  or  plan.  The 
clerk,  alarmed  by  the  sudden  pallor  of  her  face,  was  at 
her  side  instantly,  holding  eagerly  forth  that  panacea 
for  all  fleshly  ills  in  the  West,  a  bottle  of  whiskey. 

"Good  Lord,  Miss,  don't  faint  away!"  he  cried 
excitedly.  "  Here,  just  take  a  swig  of  this ;  there  's 
plenty  of  water  in  it,  and  it 's  the  stuff  to  pull  you 
through.  There,  that 's  better.  Great  Scott,  but  I 
sure  thought  you  was  goin'  to  flop  over  that  time. " 
He  assisted  her  to  a  convenient  chair,  then  stepped 
back,  gazing  curiously  into  her  face,  the  black  bottle 
still  in  his  hand.  "What 's  the  trouble,  anyhow?"  he 
questioned,  his  mind  filled  with  sudden  suspicion. 
"That — that  fellow  did  n't  throw  you,  did  he? " 

Miss  Norvell,  her  fingers  clasping  the  chair  arm  for 
support,  rose  hurriedly  to  her  feet,  a  red  flush  sweep 
ing  into  her  pallid  cheeks.  For  an  instant  her  intense 
indignation  held  her  speechless. 


THE    COVER    OF    DARKNESS 

"f Throw'  me?  What  is  it  you  mean?"  she 
exclaimed,  her  voice  faltering.  "  Do  you  rank  me  with 
those  shameless  creatures  out  yonder  ?  It  is  for  Mr. 
Winston's  sake  I  sought  word  with  him  ;  it  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  myself.  I  chanced  to  learn  news 
of  the  utmost  importance,  news  which  he  must  pos 
sess  before  morning ;  yet  it  is  not  a  message  I  can  trust 
to  any  one  else.  My  God  !  what  can  I  do  ?  "  She 
paused  irresolute,  her  hands  pressing  her  temples. 
The  boy,  his  interest  aroused,  took  a  step  forward. 

"  Can  I  be  of  service  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  hardly  know;  I  scarcely  seem  able  to  think. 
Could  —  could  you  leave  here  for  just  ten  minutes  — 
long  enough  to  go  to  the  dance  hall  at  the  Gayety  ? " 

"Sure  thing;  there  's  nothin'  doin'." 

"Then  please  go ;  find  a  big,  red-headed  miner  there 
named  Brown  — '  Stutter '  Brown  they  call  him  —  and 
bring  him  back  here  to  me.  If — if  he  is  n't  there  any 
longer,  then  get  Mercedes,  the  Mexican  dancer.  You 
know  her,  don't  you?" 

The  clerk  nodded,  reaching  for  his  hat. 

"  Get  one  of  those  two ;  oh,  you  must  get  one  of 
them.  Tell  them  I  say  it  is  most  important." 

There  was  a  terrible  earnestness  about  the  girl's 
words  and  manner,  which  instantly  impressed  the  lad 
with  the  necessity  for  immediate  haste.  He  was  off  at 
a  run,  slamming  the  door  heavily  behind  him,  and 
plunging  headlong  into  the  black  street.  As  he  dis 
appeared,  Miss  Norvell  sank  back  into  the  vacated 
chair,  and  sat  there  breathing  heavily,  her  eyes  fastened 
upon  the  drunken  man  opposite,  her  natural  coolness 

[iJ5] 


BETH    N  ORVELL 

and  resource  slowly  emerging  from  out  the  haze  of 
disappointment.  Brown  could  surely  be  trusted  in 
this  emergency,  for  his  interest  was  only  second  to  her 
own.  But  why  had  she  not  told  him  the  entire  story 
before?  Why,  when  she  had  opportunity,  did  she  fail 
to  reveal  to  him  Farnham's  threats,  and  warn  him 
against  impending  danger?  She  realized  fully  now  the 
possible  injury  wrought  by  her  secrecy.  She  felt  far 
too  nervous,  too  intensely  anxious,  to  remain  long 
quiet ;  her  eyes  caught  the  ticking  timepiece  hanging 
above  the  clerk's  desk,  and  noted  the  hour  with  a 
start  of  surprise.  It  was  already  after  two.  Once, 
twice,  thrice  she  paced  across  the  floor  of  the  office 
and  stood  for  a  moment  striving  to  peer  through  the 
dirty  window-glass  into  the  blackness  without,  faintly 
splotched  with  gleams  of  yellow  light.  Finally,  she 
flung  back  the  door  and  ventured  forth  upon  the 
shadowed  porch,  standing  behind  the  low  railing,  where 
those  passing  below  were  little  likely  to  notice  her 
presence.  Her  head  throbbed  and  ached,  and  she 
loosened  her  heavy  hair,  pressing  her  palms  to  the 
temples.  The  boy  returned  at  last  hurriedly,  bare 
headed,  but  unaccompanied,  and  she  met  him  at  the 
top  of  the  steps,  realizing,  even  before  he  spoke,  that 
those  she  sought  had  not  been  found. 

"  Not  there  ?     Neither  there  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss."  The  clerk  was  breathing  hard  from  his 
run,  but  his  tone  was  sympathetic.  "  Darned  if  I 
did  n't  hustle  that  outfit  from  pit  to  boxes,  but  nobody 
there  seemed  to  sabe  this  yere  Brown.  Mercedes,  she 
was  there  all  right,  'bout  ten  minutes  ago,  but  just 


THE    COVER    OF    DARKNESS 

naturally  faded  away  before  I  hit  the  shebang.  Door 
keeper  piped  it  she  had  a  guy  with  her  when  she 
broke  loose,  an'  he  reckoned  she  must  have  lit  out  fer 
home." 

"  For  home?  "  a  faint  ray  of  light  breaking  from  the 
word.  "  Where  does  the  girl  live ?  Do  you  know?" 

"  Sure ;  I  'm  wise ;  she  has  a  couple  of  dandy  rooms 
over  at  the  old  fort,  just  across  the  creek ;  you  know 
where  that  is,  don't  you  ?  " 

She  nodded  silently,  her  eyes  brightening  with  reso 
lution. 

"  It 's  a  blame  tough  bit  of  hiking  to  take  alone  on 
a  dark  night  like  this,"  he  commented  gravely.  "You 
was  n't  plannin'  to  try  any  such  trip  as  that,  was  you, 
Miss?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  certainly  not.  I  'm  going  upstairs  to 
wait  for  daylight.  But  I  thank  you  so  much,"  and 
she  cordially  extended  her  hand.  "  You  see,  I  —  I 
could  hardly  go  to  the  Gayety  myself  at  such  an  hour." 

The  boy  colored,  still  clasping  the  extended  hand. 
Something  in  her  low  tone  had  served  to  recall  to  his 
mind  those  hasty  words  uttered  in  the  office. 

"  Sure  not,  Miss  Norvell ;  it 's  a  bit  tough,  all 
right,  for  anybody  like  you  down  there  at  this  time  o' 
night." 

She  opened,  the  door,  the  bright  light  from  within 
shining  about  her  slender  figure,  yet  leaving  her  face 
still  in  shadow. 

"Did  —  did  you  chance  to  notice  if  Mr.  Farnham 
remained  in  the  dance  hall  ?  " 

"  Biff   Farnham  ? "    in    sudden,    choking    surprise. 


BETH    N  ORVELL 

"  Great  guns,  do  you  know  him,  too  ?  No,  he  was  n't 
there,  but  I  can  tell  you  where  he  is,  all  the  same. 
He  's  at  the  Palace  Livery,  saddling  up,  along  with 
half  a  dozen  other  fellows.  I  saw  'em  as  I  come 
trottin'  along  back,  and  wondered  what  the  dickens 
was  on  tap  at  this  time  o'  night." 

The  girl  made  no  attempt  to  answer.  She  stood 
clutching  the  edge  of  the  door  for  support,  her  lips 
tightly  compressed,  feeling  as  if  her  heart  would  rise  up 
and  choke  her.  She  realized  instantly  that  the  crisis 
had  arrived,  that  Winston's  life  probably  hung  upon 
her  next  decision.  Twice  she  endeavored  bravely  to 
speak,  and  when  she  finally  succeeded,  the  strange  calm 
ness  of  her  voice  made  her  doubt  her  own  sanity. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  gravely,  "you  have  been 
most  kind, —  good-night,"  and  vanished  up  the  stairs. 

Within  the  privacy  of  her  own  securely  locked 
room  Beth  Norvell  flung  herself  upon  the  narrow  bed, 
not  to  sleep,  not  even  to  rest,  but  in  an  earnest  effort 
to  clarify  her  brain,  to  gain  fresh  conception  of  this 
grim  reality  which  fronted  her.  She  realized  now  pre 
cisely  what  Ned  Winston  stood  for  in  her  life  —  must 
ever  stand  for  until  the  bitter  end.  There  was  no 
upbraiding,  no  reviling.  Not  in  the  slightest  degree 
did  she  even  attempt  to  deceive  herself;  with  set, 
tearless  eyes,  and  without  a  sigh  of  regret,  she  simply 
faced  the  naked  truth.  She  had  made  the  mistake 
herself;  now  she  must  bear  the  burden  of  discovery. 
It  was  not  the  dull  inertia  of  fatalism,  but  rather  the 
sober  decision  of  a  woman  who  had  been  tried  in  the 
fire,  who  understood  her  own  heart,  and  comprehended 


THE    COVER    OF    DARKNESS 

the  strength  of  her  own  will.  Personal  suffering  and 
sacrifice  were  no  new  chapters  written  in  her  life ;  these 
had  been  met  before,  and  now,  in  yet  another  guise, 
they  could  be  courageously  met  again.  She  sat  up 
quickly  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her  hands  pressing 
back  the  heavy  hair  from  off  her  hot  forehead.  What 
right  had  she  to  lie  there  shuddering  at  destiny  when 
lives  —  his  life  —  might  be  trembling  in  the  balance? 
She  could  at  least  serve,  and,  whatever  else  of  weak 
ness  may  have  lurked  in  Beth  Norvell,  there  was  no 
germ  of  cowardice.  Clearer  and  more  clear  she  per 
ceived  duty,  until  it  overshadowed  love  and  brought 
her  upon  her  feet  in  active  preparation,  in  burning 
desire  for  action. 

Standing  before  the  little  mirror,  she  wondered 
dimly  at  those  dark  circles  beneath  her  eyes,  the 
unusually  sharp  lines  visible  at  the  corners  of  her 
mouth.  She  felt  hot,  feverish,  and  in  hope  of  thus 
relieving  the  painful  throbbing  of  her  temples  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  bowl  of  cool  water.  Rapidly, 
almost  carelessly,  she  gathered  up  her  dishevelled 
locks,  fastening  them  in  some  simple,  yet  secure 
fashion  back  out  of  the  way.  From  the  open  trunk 
standing  against  the  wall,  she  caught  up  a  plain,  soft 
hat,  one  she  had  used  in  character  upon  the  stage,  and 
drew  it  down  firmly  over  the  mass  of  soft  hair,  never 
noting  how  coquettishly  the  wide  brim  swept  up  in 
front,  or  what  witchery  of  archness  it  gave  to  her  dark 
eyes.  She  took  a  quick  step  toward  the  door,  and 
then,  her  hand  already  on  the  latch,  she  paused  in 
uncertainty;  finally,  she  drew  a  small,  pearl-handled 

[•59] 


BETH    NORVELL 

revolver  from  the  bottom  tray,  and  placed  it  carefully 
in  a  pocket  of  her  jacket. 

"I  —  I  hardly  believe  I  could  ever  use  it,"  she 
thought,  "  but  maybe  I  might." 

Outside,  in  the  narrow,  deserted  hall,  she  stood  at 
the  head  of  the  steep  flight  of  stairs  and  listened. 
The  snoring  of  the  drunken  man  in  the  office  below 
was  the  only  disturbing  sound.  Out  through  the 
open  office  door  a  dull  bar  of  yellow  light  streamed 
across  the  lower  steps.  Like  a  ghost  she  stole  silently 
down,  treading  so  softly  not  a  stair  creaked  beneath 
her  cautious  footfalls.  The  next  moment  she  had 
opened  the  door,  and  was  alone  in  the  dark  street. 

Dark  it  was,  but  neither  deserted  nor  silent.  The 
unleashed  evil  of  San  Juan  was  now  in  full  control,  more 
madly  riotous  than  ever  beneath  the  cloak  of  so  late 
an  hour.  Nothing  short  of  complete  return  of  day 
light  would  bring  semblance  of  peace  to  that  carnival 
of  saloons,  gambling  dens,  and  dance  halls.  Through 
the  shadows  stalked  unrebuked,  uncontrolled,  the 
votaries  of  dissipation  and  recklessness,  of  "easy 
money"  and  brutal  lust.  Yellow  rays  of  light  streamed 
from  out  dirty,  uncurtained  windows,  leaving  the  nar 
row  street  weirdly  illuminated,  with  here  and  there 
patches  of  dense  shadows.  Shifting  figures,  often 
unsteady  of  step,  appeared  and  disappeared  like  dis 
embodied  spirits,  distorted  from  all  human  semblance 
by  that  uncertain  radiance;  on  every  side  the  discord 
ant  sounds  of  violins  and  pianos  commingled  in  one 
hideous  din,  punctuated  by  drunken  shouts  and  every 
species  of  noise  of  which  civilized  savagery  is  capable. 

[160] 


THE    COVER    OF     DARKNESS 

Yet  this  was  not  what  she  feared,  this  saturnalia  of 
unbridled  passion,  for  the  way  was  comparatively  well 
lighted,  and  in  traversing  it  she  was  reasonably  certain 
to  be  within  call  of  some  one  sober  enough  to  protect 
her  from  insult  or  injury.  Even  in  drink  these  men 
remained  courteous  to  women  of  the  right  sort.  No, 
she  had  travelled  that  path  alone  at  night  before,  again 
and  again,  returning  from  her  work.  She  shrank, 
womanlike,  from  the  sights  and  sounds,  but  was  con 
scious  of  no  personal  fear.  What  she  dreaded  beyond 
expression  was  that  long,  black  stretch  of  narrow, 
desolate  alley-way  leading  down  toward  the  creek  bridge 
and  the  old  fort  beyond.  She  had  been  over  that  path 
once  in  broad  daylight,  and  it  made  her  shudder  to 
think  she  must  now  feel  her  way  there  alone  through 
the  dark.  The  growing  fear  of  it  got  upon  her  nerves 
as  she  stood  hesitating;  then,  almost  angry  with  her 
self,  she  advanced  swiftly  down  toward  the  distant 
glowing  lights  of  the  Gayety.  It  was  just  beyond 
there  that  the  alley  turned  off  toward  the  foothills,  a 
mere  thread  of  a  path  wandering  amid  a  maze  of 
unlighted  tents  and  disreputable  shacks;  she  remem 
bered  this,  and  the  single  rotten  strip  of  plank  which 
answered  for  a  sidewalk. 

There  was  an  unusually  boisterous,  quarrelsome 
crowd  congregated  in  front  of  the  Poodle-Dog,  and  she 
turned  aside  into  the  middle  of  the  street  in  order  to 
get  past  undisturbed.  Some  one  called  noisily  for  her 
to  wait  and  have  a  drink,  but  she  never  glanced 
about,  or  gave  slightest  heed.  At  the  curb  a  drunken 
woman  reeled  against  her,  peering  sneeringly  into  her 

[161] 


BETH    NORVELL 

face  with  ribald  laugh,  but  Beth  Norvell  pushed  silently 
past,  and  vanished  into  the  protecting  shadows  beyond. 

The  wide  doors  of  the  brilliantly  illuminated  Gayety 
were  flung  open,  the  bright  light  from  within  stream 
ing  far  across  the  road.  Many  of  its  patrons,  heated 
with  liquor  and  the  dance,  had  swarmed  forth  upon  the 
broad  platform  outside  in  search  of  fresher  air.  To 
avoid  pushing  her  way  through  this  noisy  crowd  the 
girl  swiftly  crossed  the  street  into  the  darkness  oppo 
site.  As  she  paused  there  for  an  instant,  scarcely 
conscious  that  the  glow  of  the  lamps  reflected  full  upon 
her  face,  there  sounded  a  sudden  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs  to  her  right,  and  a  half-dozen  riders  swept  around 
the  sharp  corner,  dashing  forward  into  the  glare. 
She  had  barely  time  in  which  to  leap  backward  out  of 
their  direct  path,  when  one  of  the  horsemen  jerked  his 
mount  upon  its  haunches,  and,  uttering  an  oath  of 
astonishment,  leaned  forward  across  his  pommel,  star 
ing  down  into  her  startled  face.  Then  he  laughed. 

"Go  on,  boys,"  he  cried,  sitting  erect,  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  others.  "I  '11  catch  up  within  half  a 
mile.  I  Ve  got  a  word  to  say  first  to  this  precious 
dove  fluttering  here."  He  struck  the  flank  of  his  horse, 
causing  the  sensitive  beast  to  quiver,  his  own  lips  curl 
ing  maliciously.  The  girl,  panting  between  parted 
lips,  never  lowered  her  eyes  from  his  face,  and  the 
steady  look  angered  him. 

"Still  hunting  for  Winston?"  he  questioned,  sneer- 
ingly.  "Well,  I  can  inform  you  where  he  may  very 
easily  be  found." 

"Indeed!" 

[162] 


THE    COVER    OF    DARKNESS 

"Yes,  out  at  the  c Little  Yankee.'  It  seems  you 
were  a  trifle  late  in  getting  him  word,  or  else  your  fas 
cinations  failed  to  move  him.  You  must  be  losing 
your  grip." 

She  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  her  eyes  —  dark, 
unwinking  beneath  the  wide  hat-brim  —  telling  him 
nothing.  Yet  her  hand  closed  upon  the  pearl  handle 
hidden  away  in  the  jacket  pocket,  and  her  lips  formed 
a  straight  line. 

"  I  'm  damned  sorry  you  did  n't  land  the  fellow, 
Lizzie,"  he  went  on  brutally.  "  He  's  about  the  best 
catch  you  're  liable  to  get,  and  besides,  it  leaves  me  a 
rather  unpleasant  job.  Still,  I  thought  I  'd  better  tell 
you,  so  you  would  n't  feel  it  necessary  to  hang  around 
the  streets  here  any  longer.  Fact  is,  I  'm  anxious  to 
shield  your  reputation,  you  know."  He  looked  about 
carelessly,  his  glance  settling  on  the  open  doors  of  the 
Gayety.  "  Don't  strike  me  this  is  exactly  the  sort  of 
place  for  one  of  your  moral  respectability  to  be  dis 
covered  in.  Lord !  but  what  would  the  old  man  or 
that  infernal  prig  of  a  brother  of  yours  say,  if  they 
could  only  see  you  now  ?  A  monologue  artist  at  the 
Gayety  was  bad  enough,  but  this,  this  is  the  limit." 

There  was  a  flash  of  something  white  and  glittering 
within  six  inches  of  his  face,  a  sharp  click,  and  an  eye 
looked  directly  into  his  own  across  a  short,  steel 
barrel. 

"  Go  ! "     The  word  was  like  the  spat  of  a  bullet. 

"  But,  Lizzie  — 

"  Go,  you  cur  !  or,  as  God  is  my  witness,  if  you  stay 
I  '11  kill  you  !  " 


BETH     NORVEL  L 

With  a  sharp  dig  of  the  spur  his  horse  sprang  half 
way  across  the  road,  a  black,  prancing  shadow  against 
the  glare  of  light.  She  saw  the  rider  fling  up  one 
arm,  and  bring  down  the  stinging  quirt  on  the  animal's 
flank ;  the  next  instant,  with  a  bound,  they  were  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  darkness.  A  moment  she  leaned 
against  the  shack,  nerveless,  half  fainting  from  reaction, 
her  face  deathly  white.  Then  she  inhaled  a  long, 
deep  breath,  gathered  her  skirts  closely  within  one 
hand,  and  plunged  boldly  into  the  black  alley. 


[164] 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Two  WOMEN 

MERCEDES  stood  in  the  shade  of  the  towering 
hillside,  the  single  beam  of  light  shining  from 
an  uncurtained  window  alone  faintly  revealing 
her  slenderness  of  figure  in  its  red  drapery.  No  other 
gleam  anywhere  cleft  the  prevailing  darkness  of  the 
night,  and  the  only  perceptible  sound  was  that  of 
horses'  hoofs  dying  away  in  the  distance.  The  girl  was 
not  crying,  although  one  of  her  hands  was  held  across 
her  eyes,  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  tumultuously 
to  labored  breathing.  She  stood  silent,  motionless, 
the  strange  radiance  causing  her  to  appear  unreal,  some 
divinely  moulded  statue,  an  artist's  dream  carven  in 
colored  stone.  Suddenly  she  sprang  backward  from 
out  that  revealing  tongue  of  light  and  crouched  low  at 
the  angle  of  the  house,  not  unlike  some  affrighted  wild 
animal,  her  head  bent  forward  intently  listening.  There 
was  a  plainly  perceptible  movement  in  the  gloom,  the 
sound  of  an  approaching  footstep  and  of  rapid  breath 
ing,  and  finally  a  shadow  became  visible.  The  watcher 
leaped  to  her  feet  half  angrily. 

"  Ah  !  so  eet  vas  you,  senorita !  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
voice  betraying  her  emotion, — "  you,  who  come  so  dis 
night.  Sapristi!  vy  you  follow  me  dis  vay?  By  all 
de  saints,  I  make  you  tell  me  dat!  You  vant  him, 
too?  You  vant  rob  me  of  all  thing?" 


BETH     NORVELL 

The  visitor,  startled  by  this  sudden  challenge,  stood 
before  her  trembling  from  head  to  foot  with  the 
nervous  excitement  of  her  journey,  yet  her  eyes 
remained  darkly  resolute. 

"You  recognize  me,"  she  responded  quickly,  reach 
ing  out  and  touching  the  other  with  one  hand,  as  if 
to  make  certain  of  her  actual  presence.  "  Then  for 
God's  sake  do  not  waste  time  now  in  quarrelling.  I 
did  not  make  this  trip  without  a  purpose.  'He,'  you 
say?  Who  is  he?  Who  was  it  that  rode  away  from 
here  just  now?  Not  Farnham?" 

Mercedes  laughed  a  trifle  uneasily,  her  eyes  sud 
denly  lowered  before  the  other's  anxious  scrutiny. 

"Ah,  no,  senorita,"  she  answered  softly.  "Eet  sur 
prises  me  mooch  you  not  know ;  eet  vas  Senor  Brown." 

Miss  Norvell  grasped  her  firmly  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Brown  ? "  she  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  Stutter  Brown  ? 
Oh,  call  him  back ;  cannot  you  call  him  back  ? " 

The  young  Mexican  shook  her  head,  her  white  teeth 
gleaming,  as  she  drew  her  shoulder  free  from  the 
fingers  clasping  it. 

"You  vas  too  late,  senorita,"  she  replied,  sweetly 
confident.  "  He  vas  already  gone  to  de  '  Little 
Yankee.'  But  he  speak  mooch  to  me  first." 

"  Much  about  what  ? " 

"Vel,  he  say  he  lofe  me  —  he  say  eet  straight,  like 
eet  vas  vat  he  meant." 

"Oh!" 

"Si,  senorita;  he  not  even  talk  funny,  maybe  he  so 
excited  he  forgot  how,  hey  ?  An'  vat  you  tink  dat  he 
say  den  to  Mercedes  —  vat?" 

[166] 


TWO    WOMEN 

The  other  shook  her  head,  undecided,  hesitating  as 
to  her  own  purpose. 

"  He  ask  me  vould  I  marry  him.  Si,  si,  vat  you 
tink  of  dat  —  me,  Mercedes  Morales,  de  dancer  at  de 
Gayety — he  ask  me  vould  I  marry  him.  Oh,  Mother 
of  God ! " 

The  young  American  stared  at  her  upturned  ani 
mated  face,  suddenly  aroused  to  womanly  interest. 

"  And  what  did  you  say  ?  " 

Mercedes  stamped  her  foot  savagely  on  the  hard 
ground,  her  eyes  glowing  like  coals  of  fire. 

"You  ask  vat  I  say?  Saints  of  God!  vat  could  I 
say  ?  He  vas  a  good  man,  dat  Sefior  Brown,  but  I  — 
I  vas  not  a  good  voman.  I  no  tell  him  dat  —  no  !  no  ! 
I  vas  shamed ;  I  get  red,  vite ;  I  hardly  speak  at  all ; 
my  heart  thump  so  I  tink  maybe  eet  choke  me  up 
here,  but  I  say  no.  I  say  no  once,  tvice,  tree  time. 
I  tell  him  he  big  fool  to  tink  like  dat  of  me.  I  tell  him 
go  vay  an'  find  voman  of  his  own  race  —  good  voman. 
I  tell  him  eet  could  nevah  be  me,  no,  nevah." 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  him  ?  " 

The  puzzled  dancer  hesitated,  her  long  lashes  low 
ered,  and  outlined  against  her  cheeks. 

<c  Lofe?  Dat  vas  not  nice  vord  as  eet  come  to  me. 
I  know  not  ver'  veil  just  vat.  Maybe  if  I  not  lofe 
him  I  marry  him  —  si ;  I  no  care  den.  I  make  him  to 
suffer,  but  not  care ;  ees  eet  not  so  ?  Anyhow,  I  —  vat 
you  call  dat?  —  respect  dis  Senor  Brown  mooch,  ver' 
mooch.  Maybe  dat  last  longer  as  lofe  —  quiensabe?" 

Scarcely  comprehending  this  peculiar  explanation, 
Beth  Norvell's  first  conception  was  that  the  girl  had 


BETH    NORVELL 

chosen  wrong,  that  she  had  allied  herself  upon  the  side 
of  evil. 

"  You  mean  you  —  you  will  go  back  to  Biff  Farn- 
ham?"  she  asked,  her  tone  full  of  horror. 

Mercedes  straightened  up  quickly,  her  young, 
expressive  face  filled  with  a  new  passion,  which  strug 
gled  almost  vainly  for  utterance  through  her  lips. 

"  Go  back  to  dat  man  ! "  she  panted.  "  Me  ? 
Sapristif  and  you  tink  I  do  dat  after  Senor  Brown  ask 
me  be  hees  vife  !  Blessed  Mary  !  vat  you  tink  I  am  ? 
You  tink  I  not  feel,  not  care  ?  I  go  back  to  dat  Farn- 
ham  ?  Eet  vould  not  be,  no !  no !  I  tol'  him  dat 
mooch,  an' he  got  mad.  I  no  care,  I  like  dat.  I  no  lofe 
him,  nevah ;  I  vas  sold  to  him  for  money,  like  sheep, 
but  I  learn  to  hate  him  to  kill."  The  deep  glow  of 
the  black  eyes  softened,  and  her  head  slowly  dropped 
until  it  touched  the  other's  extended  arm.  "  But  dis 
Senor  Brown  he  vas  not  dat  kind  —  he  ask  me  to  marry 
him ;  he  say  he  not  care  vat  I  been,  only  he  lofe  me, 
an'  he  be  good  to  me  alvays.  I  vas  hungry  for  dat, 
senorita,  but  I  say  no,  no,  no !  Eet  vas  not  for  me, 
nevah.  I  send  him  avay  so  sorry,  an'  den  I  cry 
ven  I  hear  his  horse  go  out  yonder.  Eet  vas  like  he 
tread  on  me,  eet  hurt  dat  vay.  Maybe  I  no  lofe  him, 
but  I  know  he  vas  good  man  an'  he  lofe  me.  Eet  vas 
de  honor  ven  he  ask  me  dat,  an'  now  I  be  good  voman 
because  a  good  man  lofes  me.  Holy  Mother!  eet  vill 
be  easy  now  dat  he  vanted  to  marry  me." 

Impulsively  Beth  Norvell,  her  own  eyes  moist,  held 
the  other,  sobbing  like  a  child  within  the  clasp  of 
sympathetic  arms.  There  was  instantly  formed  between 

[i  68] 


TWO    WO  MEN 

them  a  new  bond,  a  new  feeling  of  awakened  woman 
hood.  Yet,  even  as  her  fingers  continued  to  stroke  the 
dishevelled  hair  softly,  there  flashed  across  her  mind  a 
recurring  memory  of  her  purpose,  the  necessity  for  imme 
diate  action.  Not  for  an  instant  longer  did  she  doubt  the 
complete  honesty  of  the  other's  frank  avowal,  or  question 
the  propriety  of  requesting  her  aid  in  thwarting  Farnham. 
She  held  the  slight,  quivering  figure  back,  so  that  she 
might  gaze  into  the  uplifted,  questioning  face. 

"  Mercedes,  yes,  yes,  I  understand  it  all,"  she  cried 
eagerly.  "  But  we  cannot  talk  about  it  any  longer 
now.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing,  this  love  of  a  good 
man ;  but  we  are  wasting  time  that  may  mean  life  or 
death  to  others,  perhaps  even  to  him.  Listen  to  what 
I  say — Farnham  has  already  gone  to  the  'Little 
Yankee,'  and  taken  a  gang  of  roughs  with  him. 
They  left  San  Juan  on  horseback  more  than  half  an 
hour  ago.  He  threatened  me  first,  and  boasted  that 
Mr.  Winston  was  out  there,  and  that  I  was  too  late 
to  warn  him  of  danger.  Oh,  girl,  you  understand 
what  that  means ;  you  know  him  well,  you  must 
realize  what  he  is  capable  of  doing.  I  came  here  as 
fast  as  I  could  in  the  dark,"  she  shuddered,  glancing 
backward  across  her  shoulder.  "  Every  step  was  a 
way  of  horrors,  but  I  did  n't  know  any  one  who  could 
help  me.  But  you  —  you  know  the  way  to  the  c  Little 
Yankee,'  and  we  —  we  must  get  there  before  daylight, 
if  we  have  to  crawl." 

All  that  was  savagely  animal  in  the  other's  untamed 
nature  flamed  into  her  face. 

"  He  say  vat?     Sefior  Farnham  he  say  vat  he  do  ?  " 

[.69] 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

"He  said  dynamite  told  no  tales,  but  sometimes 
killed  more  than  the  one  intended." 

Mercedes'  hand  went  to  her  head  as  though  a  pain 
had  smitten  her,  and  she  stepped  back,  half  crouching 
in  the  glow  like  a  tiger  cat. 

"He  say  dat?  De  man  say  dat?  Holy  Angels! 
he  vas  de  bad  devil,  but  he  find  me  de  bad  devil  too. 
Ah,  now  I  play  him  de  game,  an'  ve  see  who  vin ! 
De  '  Leetle  Yankee,'  eet  tree  mile,  senorita,  an'  de  road 
rough,  mooch  rough,  but  I  know  eet  —  si,  I  know  eet, 
an'  ve  get  dare  before  de  day  come;  sure  ve  do  eet, 
bueno"  She  grasped  the  arm  of  the  other,  now  fully 
aroused,  her  slight  form  quivering  from  intense  excite 
ment.  "  Come,  I  show  you.  See  !  he  vas  my  pony 
—  ah  !  eet  makes  me  to  laugh  to  know  de  Senor  Farn- 
ham  give  him  me ;  now  I  make  him  to  upset  de  Senor 
Farnham.  Sapristi!  eet  vas  vat  you  call  de  vay  of 
de  vorld,  de  verligig ;  vas  eet  not  so  ?  You  ride  de 
pony,  senorita;  I  valk  an'  lead  him  —  si,  si,  you  more 
tired  as  Mercedes ;  I  danseuse,  no  tire  ever  in  de  legs. 
Den  I  find  de  vay  more  easy  on  foot  in  de  dark,  see? 
You  ride  good,  hey  ?  He  jump  little,  maybe,  but  he 
de  ver'  nice  pony,  an'  I  no  let  him  run.  No,  no,  de 
odder  vay,  senorita,  like  de  man  ride.  Poof!  it  no 
harm  in  de  dark.  Bueno,  now  ve  go  to  surprise  de 
Senor  Farnham." 

She  led  promptly  forth  as  she  spoke,  moving  with 
perfect  confidence  down  the  irregular  trail  skirting  the 
bank  of  the  creek,  her  left  hand  grasping  the  pony's 
bit  firmly,  the  other  shading  her  eyes  as  though  to  aid 
in  the  selection  of  a  path  through  the  gloom.  It  was 

[170] 


TWO    WOMEN 

a  rough,  uneven,  winding  road  they  followed,  appar 
ently  but  little  used,  littered  with  loose  stones  and 
projecting  roots;  yet,  after  a  moment  of  fierce  but 
useless  rebellion,  the  lively  mustang  sobered  down 
into  a  cautious  picking  of  his  passage  amid  the  debris, 
obedient  as  a  dog  to  the  soft  voice  of  his  mistress. 
The  problems  of  advance  were  far  too  complicated  to 
permit  of  much  conversation,  and  little  effort  at  speech 
was  made  by  either,  the  principal  thought  in  each 
mind  being  the  necessity  for  haste. 

Swaying  on  the  saddleless  back  of  the  pony,  her 
anxious  gaze  on  the  dimly  revealed,  slender  figure 
trudging  sturdily  in  front,  Beth  Norvell  began  to  dread 
the  necessity  of  again  having  to  meet  Winston  under 
such  conditions.  What  would  he  naturally  think? 
He  could  scarcely  fail  to  construe  such  action  on  his 
behalf  as  one  inspired  by  deep  personal  interest,  and 
she  instinctively  shrank  from  such  revealment,  fear 
ing  his  glance,  his  word  of  welcome,  his  expressions 
of  surprised  gratitude.  The  awkwardness,  the  proba 
ble  embarrassment  involved,  became  more  and  more 
apparent  as  she  looked  forward  to  that  meeting.  If 
possible,  she  would  gladly  drop  out,  and  so  permit 
the  other  to  bear  on  the  message  of  warning  alone. 
But,  even  with  Mercedes'  undoubted  interest  in 
Brown,  and  her  increasing  dislike  of  Farnham,  Beth 
could  not  as  yet  entirely  trust  her  unaccompanied. 
Besides,  there  was  no  excuse  to  offer  for  such  sudden 
withdrawal,  no  reason  she  durst  even  whisper  into  the 
ear  of  another.  No,  there  was  nothing  left  her  but  to 
go  on;  let  him  think  what  he  might  of  her  action,  she 

['7'] 


BETH  NORVELL 

would  not  fail  to  do  her  best  to  serve  him,  and  beneath 
the  safe  cover  of  darkness  she  blushed  scarlet,  her 
long  lashes  moist  with  tears  that  could  not  be  restrained. 
They  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  black  canyon  now,  the 
high,  uplifting  rock  walls  on  either  side  blotting  out 
the  stars  and  rendering  the  surrounding  gloom 
intense.  The  young  Mexican  girl  seemed  to  have 
the  eyes  of  a  cat,  or  else  was  guided  by  some  instinct 
of  the  wild,  feeling  her  passage  slowly  yet  surely  for 
ward,  every  nerve  alert,  and  occasionally  pausing  to 
listen  to  some  strange  night  sound.  It  was  a  weird, 
uncanny  journey,  in  which  the  nerves  tingled  to 
uncouth  shapes  and  the  wild  echoing  of  mountain 
voices.  Once,  at  such  a  moment  of  continued  sus 
pense,  Beth  Norvell  bent  forward  and  whispered  a 
sentence  into  her  ear.  The  girl  started,  impulsively 
pressing  her  lips  against  the  white  hand  grasping  the 
pony's  mane. 

"No,  no,  senorita,"  she  said  softly.  "Not  dat; 
not  because  he  lofe  me ;  because  he  ask  me  dat.  Si,  I 
make  him  not  so  sorry." 

She  remembered  that  vast  overhanging  rock  about 
which  the  dim  trail  circled  as  it  swept  upward  toward 
where  the  "Little  Yankee"  perched  against  the  sky-line. 
Undaunted  by  the  narrowness  of  the  ledge,  the  willing, 
sure-footed  mustang  began  climbing  the  steep  grade. 
Step  by  step  they  crept  up,  cautiously  advancing  from 
out  the  bottom  of  the  cleft,  the  path  followed  wind 
ing  in  and  out  among  bewildering  cedars,  and  skirt 
ing  unknown  depths  of  ravines.  Mercedes  was  breathing 
heavily,  her  unoccupied  hand  grasping  the  trailing 

[172] 


TWO    WOMEN 

skirt  which  interfered  with  her  climbing.  Miss  Nor- 
vell,  from  her  higher  perch  on  the  pony's  back,  glanced 
behind  apprehensively.  Far  away  to  the  east  a  faint, 
uncertain  tinge  of  gray  was  shading  into  the  sky.  Sud 
denly  a  detached  stone  rattled  in  their  front;  there 
echoed  the  sharp  click  of  a  rifle  hammer,  mingled 
with  the  sound  of  a  gruff,  unfamiliar  voice  : 

"  You  come  another  step,  an'  I  '11  blow  hell  out  o' 
yer.  Sabe?" 

It  all  occurred  so  quickly  that  neither  spoke ;  they 
caught  their  breath  and  waited  in  suspense.  A  shadow, 
dim,  ill-defined,  seemed  to  take  partial  form  in  their 
front. 

"  Well,  can't  yer  speak  ?  "  questioned  the  same  voice, 
growlingly.  "What  yer  doin'  on  this  yere  trail?  " 

Mercedes  released  the  pony's  bit,  and  leaned  eagerly 
forward. 

"Vas  dat  you,  Beell  Heeks?"  she  questioned, 
doubtfully. 

The  man  swore,  the  butt  of  his  quickly  lowered 
rifle  striking  sharply  against  the  rock  at  his  feet. 

"  I  'm  damned  if  it  ain't  that  Mexican  agin,"  he 
exclaimed,  angrily.  "Now,  you  get  out  o'  yere;  you 
hear  me  ?  I  'm  blamed  if  I  kin  shoot  at  no  female, 
but  you  got  in  one  measly  spyin'  job  on  this  outfit, 
an'  I  '.U  not  put  up  with  another  if  I  have  ter  pitch  ye 
out  inter  the  canyon.  So  you  git  plum  out  o'  yere,  an' 
tell  yer  friend  Farnham  he  better  take  more  care  o'  his 
females,  or  some  of  'em  are  liable  ter  get  hurt." 

There  was  the  harsh  crunch  of  a  footstep  in  the 
darkness ;  another  figure  suddenly  slid  down  the 


BETH    NORVELL 

smooth  surface  of  rock,  dropping  almost  at  the  pony's 
head.  The  animal  shied  with  a  quick  leap,  but  a 
heavy  hand  held  him  captive. 

"  Y-you  sh-sh-shut  up,  B-Bill,"  and  the  huge  form 
of  Stutter  Brown  loomed  up  directly  between  them 
and  that  menacing  rifle.  "  I-I  reckon  as  how  I  '11 
t-t-take  a  h-hand  in  this  yere  g-g-game.  Sh-she  ain't 
no  s-spy  fcr  Farnham,  er  I  'm  a  1-1-liar."  He  touched 
her  softly  with  his  great  hand,  bending  down  to  look 
into  her  face,  half  hidden  beneath  the  ruffled  black  hair. 
"  C-come,  little  g-g-girl,  what 's  up  ?  " 

She  made  no  response,  her  lips  faltering  as  though 
suddenly  stricken  dumb.  Beth  Norvell  dropped  down 
from  the  pony's  back,  and  stood  with  one  hand  rest 
ing  on  Mercedes'  shoulder. 

"  She  only  came  to  show  me  the  way,"  she  explained 
bravely.  "  I-I  have  a  most  important  message  for 
Mr.  Winston.  Where  is  he  ? " 

"  Important,  d-did  you  s-s-say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  its  delivery  means  life  or  death — for  Heaven's 
sake,  take  me  to  him  !  " 

For  a  single  breathless  moment  Brown  hesitated,  his 
eyes  on  the  girl's  upturned  face,  evidently  questioning 
her  real  purpose. 

"  I  c-can't  right  n-now,  Miss,"  he  finally  acknowl 
edged,  gravely  ;  "  that 's  s-straight ;  fer  ye  s-s-see,  he  's 
down  the*  I-I-Independence'  shaft." 


C'74] 


CHAPTER   XIV 

UNDERGROUND 

IT  WAS  a  daring  ruse  that  had  taken  Ned  Winston 
down  the  shaft  of  the  "  Independence"  mine  with 
the  midnight  shift.  Not  even  the  professional 
enthusiasm  of  a  young  engineer  could  serve  to  justify 
so  vast  a  risk,  but  somehow  this  battle  of  right  and 
wrong  had  become  a  personal  struggle  between  himself 
and  Farnham ;  he  felt,  without  understanding  clearly 
why,  that  the  real  stake  involved  was  well  worth  the 
venture,  and  would  prove  in  the  end  of  infinitely  more 
value  to  him  than  any  settlement  of  the  mere  mining 
claims  at  issue.  For  several  hours  he  had  been  below 
in  the  tunnel  of  the  "  Little  Yankee,"  measuring  dis 
tances,  and  sampling  the  grade  of  ore.  All  the  after 
noon  and  much  of  the  early  night  had  been  utilized  in 
a  careful  exploration  of  the  surface  ledges  ;  creeping  in, 
under  protection  of  the  low-growing  cedars,  as  closely 
as  a  vigilant  rifle-guard  would  permit,  to  the  great  ore 
dump  of  the  busy  "Independence";  diligently  study 
ing  their  system  of  labor,  and  slowly  crystallizing  into 
shape  his  later  plan  of  action.  He  was  already  morally 
convinced  that  the  Farnham  people  were  actively 
engaged  in  stealing  the  "Little  Yankee"  ore;  that 
they  were  running  their  tunnel  along  the  lead  of  the 
latter ;  that  they  were  doing  this  systematically,  and 
fully  conscious  of  the  danger  of  discovery.  His  lines 


BETH  NORVELL 

of  survey,  the  nature  of  the  ore  bodies,  the  muffled 
sound  of  picks,  plainly  discernible  in  the  silent  breast 
of  the  "  Little  Yankee  "  while  he  lay  listening  with  ear  to 
the  rock,  as  well  as  the  close  secrecy,  all  combined 
to  convince  him  fully  of  the  fact.  Yet  such  vague  sus 
picions  were  perfectly  useless.  He  must  have  absolute, 
convincing  proof,  and  such  proof  could  be  obtained 
nowhere  excepting  at  the  bottom  of  the  "  Indepen 
dence"  shaft. 

He  talked  over  the  situation  frankly  with  the  two 
partners  in  the  little  single-roomed  cabin  perched  on 
the  cliff  edge,  while  the  obedient  though  grumbling 
Mike,  rifle  in  hand,  sat  solemnly  on  the  dump  pile  with 
out.  Little  by  little  the  three  conspirators  worked  out 
a  fairly  feasible  plan.  There  were  numerous  chances 
for  failure  in  it,  yet  the  very  recklessness  of  the  con 
ception  was  an  advantage.  Winston,  his  face  darkened 
as  a  slight  disguise,  and  dressed  in  the  rough  garments 
of  a  typical  miner,  was  to  hide  beside  the  footpath 
leading  between  the  "Independence"  bunk-house  and 
the  shaft.  Should  one  of  the  men  chance  to  loiter 
behind  the  others  when  the  working  shift  changed  at 
midnight,  Brown  was  to  attend  to  him  silently,  relying 
entirely  upon  his  giant  strength  to  prevent  alarm, 
while  Winston  was  promptly  to  take  the  vacated  place 
among  the  descending  workmen.  By  some  grim  fate 
this  crudely  devised  scheme  worked  like  a  well-oiled 
piece  of  machinery.  A  sleepy-headed  lout,  endeavor 
ing  to  draw  on  his  coat  as  he  ran  blindly  after  the  others, 
stumbled  in  the  rocky  path  and  fell  heavily.  Almost 
at  the  instant  Stutter  Brown  had  the  fellow  by  the 

[•76] 


UNDERGROUND 

throat,  dragging  him  back  into  the  security  of  the 
cedars,  and  Winston,  lamp  and  dinner-pail  in  hand, 
was  edging  his  way  into  the  crowded  cage,  his  face 
turned  to  the  black  wall. 

That  was  five  hours  before.  At  the  very  edge  of 
the  black,  concealing  chaparral,  within  easy  rifle  range 
of  the  "  Independence"  shaft-house,  Hicks  and  Brown 
lay  flat  on  their  faces,  waiting  and  watching  for  some 
occasion  to  take  a  hand.  Back  behind  the  little  cabin 
old  Mike  sat  calmly  smoking  his  black  dudheen,  appar 
ently  utterly  oblivious  to  all  the  world  save  the  bound 
and  cursing  Swede  he  was  vigilantly  guarding,  and 
whose  spirits  he  occasionally  refreshed  with  some  choice 
bit  of  Hibernian  philosophy.  Beneath  the  flaring 
gleam  of  numerous  gasoline  torches,  half  a  dozen  men 
constantly  passed  and  repassed  between  shaft-house  and 
dump  heap,  casting  weird  shadows  along  the  rough 
planking,  and  occasionally  calling  to  each  other,  their 
gruff  voices  clear  in  the  still  night.  Every  now  and 
then  those  two  silent  watchers  could  hear  the  dismal 
clank  of  the  windlass  chain,  and  a  rattle  of  ore  on  the 
dump,  when  the  huge  buckets  were  hoisted  to  the  sur 
face  and  emptied  of  their  spoil.  Once  —  it  must  have 
been  after  three  o'clock  —  other  men  seemed  suddenly 
to  mingle  among  those  perspiring  surface  workers,  and 
the  unmistakable  neigh  of  a  horse  came  faintly  from 
out  the  blackness  of  a  distant  thicket.  The  two  lying 
in  the  chaparral  rose  to  their  knees,  bending  anxiously 
forward.  Brown  drew  back  the  hammer  of  his  rifle, 
while  Hicks  swore  savagely  under  his  breath.  But 
those  new  figures  vanished  in  some  mysterious  way 


BETH    NORVELL 

before  either  could  decide  who  they  might  be  —  into 
the  shaft-house,  or  else  beyond,  where  denser  shad 
ows  intervened.  The  two  watchers  sank  back  again 
into  their  cover,  silently  waiting,  ever  wondering  what 
was  happening  beyond  their  ken,  down  below  in  the 
heart  of  the  hill. 

Some  of  this  even  Winston  never  knew,  although  he 
was  a  portion  of  it.  He  had  gone  down  with  the 
descending  cage,  standing  silent  among  the  grimy 
workmen  crowding  it,  and  quickly  discerning  from  their 
speech  that  they  were  largely  Swedes  and  Poles,  of  a 
class  inclined  to  ask  few  questions,  provided  their  wages 
were  promptly  paid.  There  was  a  deserted  gallery 
opening  from  the  shaft-hole  some  forty  feet  below  the 
surface;  he  saw  the  glimmer  of  light  reflected  along  its 
wall  as  they  passed,  but  the  cage  dropped  to  a  consider 
ably  lower  level  before  it  stopped,  and  the  men  stepped 
forth  into  the  black  entry.  Winston  went  with  them, 
keeping  carefully  away  from  the  fellow  he  supposed  to 
be  foreman  of  the  gang,  and  hanging  back,  under  pre 
tence  of  having  difficulty  in  lighting  his  lamp,  until  the 
others  had  preceded  him  some  distance  along  the  echo 
ing  gallery.  The  yellow  flaring  of  their  lights  through 
the  intense  darkness  proved  both  guidance  and  warn 
ing,  so  he  moved  cautiously  forward,  counting  his  steps, 
his  hand  feeling  the  trend  of  the  side  wall,  his  lamp 
unlit.  The  floor  was  rough  and  uneven,  but  dry,  the  tun 
nel  apparently  having  been  blasted  through  solid  rock, 
for  no  props  supporting  the  roof  were  discernible. 
For  quite  an  extended  distance  this  entry  ran  straight 
away  from  the  foot  of  the  shaft  —  directly  south  he 


UNDERGROUND 

made  it  —  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain ;  then  those 
twinkling  lights  far  in  advance  suddenly  winked  out, 
and  Winston  groped  blindly  forward  until  he  discov 
ered  a  sharp  turn  in  the  tunnel. 

He  lingered  for  a  moment  behind  the  protection  of 
that  angle  of  rock  wall,  struck  a  safety  match,  and  held 
the  tiny  flame  down  close  against  the  face  of  his  pocket 
compass.  Exactly ;  this  new  advance  extended  south 
east  by  east.  He  snuffed  out  the  glowing  splinter 
between  his  ringers,  crossed  over  to  the  opposite  side, 
and  watchfully  rounded  the  corner  to  where  he  could 
again  perceive  the  twinkling  lights  ahead.  His  foot 
met  some  obstacle  along  the  floor,  and  he  bent  down, 
feeling  for  it  with  his  fingers  in  the  dark ;  it  proved  to  be 
a  rude  scrap-iron  rail,  evidence  that  they  carried  out 
their  ore  by  means  of  mules  and  a  tram-car.  A  few 
yards  farther  this  new  tunnel  began  to  ascend  slightly, 
and  he  again  mysteriously  lost  his  view  of  the  miners' 
lamps,  and  was  compelled  to  grope  his  way  more 
slowly,  yet  ever  carefully  counting  his  steps.  The  roof 
sank  with  the  advance  until  it  became  so  low  he  was 
compelled  to  stoop.  The  sound  of  picks  smiting  the 
rock  was  borne  to  him,  made  faint  by  distance,  but  con 
stantly  growing  clearer.  There  he  came  to  another 
curve  in  the  tunnel. 

He  crouched  upon  one  knee,  peering  cautiously 
around  the  edge  in  an  effort  to  discover  what  was  tak 
ing  place  in  front.  The  scattered  lights  on  the  hats  of 
the  miners  rendered  the  whole  weird  scene  fairly  vis 
ible.  There  were  two  narrow  entries  branching  off 
from  the  main  gallery  not  more  than  thirty  feet  from 

[J79] 


BETH    NORVELL 

where  he  lay.  One  ran,  as  nearly  as  he  could  judge, 
considerably  to  the  east  of  south,  but  the  second  had 
its  trend  directly  to  the  eastward.  Along  the  first  of 
these  tunnels  there  was  no  attempt  at  concealment,  a 
revealing  twinkle  of  light  showing  where  numerous 
miners  were  already  at  work.  But  the  second  was 
dark,  and  would  have  remained  unnoticed  entirely  had 
not  several  men  been  grouped  before  the  entrance, 
their  flaring  lamps  reflected  over  the  rock  wall.  Win 
ston's  eyes  sparkled,  his  pulse  leaped,  as  he  marked 
the  nature  of  their  task  —  they  were  laboriously  remov 
ing  a  heavy  mask,  built  of  wood  and  canvas,  which 
had  been  snugly  fitted  over  the  hole,  making  it  resem 
ble  a  portion  of  the  solid  rock  wall. 

There  were  four  workmen  employed  at  this  task, 
while  the  foreman,  a  broad-jawed,  profane-spoken 
Irishman,  his  moustache  a  bristling  red  stubble,  stood  a 
little  back,  noisily  directing  operations,  the  yellow  light 
flickering  over  him.  The  remainder  of  the  fellows 
composing  the  party  had  largely  disappeared  farther 
down,  although  the  sound  of  their  busy  picks  was 
clearly  audible. 

"Where  the  hell  is  Swanson  ?  "  blurted  out  the  fore 
man  suddenly.  "  He  belongs  in  this  gang.  Here 
you,  Ole,  what 's  become  o'  Nelse  Swanson  ? " 

The  fellow  thus  directly  addressed  drew  his  hand 
across  his  mouth,  straightening  up  slightly  to  answer. 

"  Eet  iss  not  sumtings  dot  I  know,  Meester  Burke. 
He  seems  not  here." 

"Not  here;  no,  I  should  say  not,  ye  cross-oied 
Swade.  But  Oi  'm  dommed  if  he  did  n't  come  down 

[180] 


in  the  cage  wid'  us,  for  Oi  counted  the  lot  o'  yez. 
Don't  any  o'  you  lads  know  whut  's  become  o'  the 
drunken  lout  ? " 

There  was  a  universal  shaking  of  heads,  causing  the 
lights  to  dance  dizzily,  forming  weird  shadows  in  the 
gloom,  and  the  irritated  foreman  swore  aloud,  his  eyes 
wandering  back  down  the  tunnel. 

"  No  doubt  he 's  dhrunk  yet,  an'  laid  down  to  slape 
back  beyant  in  the  passage,"  he  growled  savagely. 
"  Be  all  the  powers,  but  Oi  '11  tache  that  humpin'  fool  a 
lesson  this  day  he  '11  not  be  apt  to  fergit  fer  a  while. 
I  will  that,  or  me  name  's  not  Jack  Burke.  Here 
you,  Peterson,  hand  me  over  that  pick-helve."  He 
struck  the  tough  hickory  handle  sharply  against  the 
wall  to  test  its  strength,  his  ugly  red  moustache  brist 
ling.  "  Lave  the  falsework  sthandin'  where  it  is  till  I 
git  back,"  he  ordered,  with  an  authoritative  wave  of  the 
hand ;  "  an'  you  fellers  go  in  beyant,  an'  help  out  on 
Number  Wan  till  Oi  call  ye.  Dom  me  sowl,  but 
Oi:'ll  make  that  Swanson  think  the  whole  dom  moun 
ting  has  slid  down  on  top  o'  him  —  the  lazy,  dhrunken 
Swade." 

The  heavy  pick-handle  swinging  in  his  hand,  his 
grim,  red  face  glowing  angrily  beneath  the  sputtering 
flame  of  the  lamp  stuck  in  his  hat,  the  irate  Burke 
strode  swiftly  back  into  the  gloomy  passage,  muttering 
gruffly. 


[181] 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  PROOF  OF  CRIME 

WINSTON  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  back 
along  the  deserted  tunnel,  bending  low  to 
avoid  collision  with  the  sloping  roof,  striving 
to  move  rapidly,  yet  in  silence.  The  intense  darkness 
blinded  him,  but  one  hand  touching  the  wall  acted  as 
safeguard.  For  a  moment  the  bewildering  surprise  of 
this  new  situation  left  his  brain  in  a  whirl  of  uncertainty. 
He  could. remember  no  spot  in  which  he  might  hope 
to  secrete  himself  safely ;  the  rock  wall  of  that  narrow 
passageway  afforded  no  possible  concealment  against 
the  reflection  of  the  foreman's  glaring  lamp.  But  he 
must  get  beyond  sight  and  sound  of  those  others  before 
the  inevitable  meeting  and  the  probable  struggle 
occurred.  This  became  the  one  insistent  thought 
which  sent  him  scurrying  back  into  the  gloom,  reck 
lessly  accepting  every  chance  of  encountering  obstacles 
in  his  haste.  At  the  second  curve  he  paused,  panting 
heavily  from  the  excitement  of  his  hard  run,  and  leaned 
against  the  face  of  the  rock,  peering  anxiously  back 
toward  that  fast  approaching  flicker  of  light.  The 
angry  foreman  came  crunching  savagely  along,  his 
heavy  boots  resounding  upon  the  hard  floor,  the  hick 
ory  club  in  his  hand  occasionally  striking  against  the 
wall  as  though  he  imagined  himself  already  belaboring 
the  recreant  Swanson.  About  him,  causing  his  figure 

[i8a] 


THE    PROOF    OF    CRIME 

to  appear  gigantic,  his  shadow  grotesque,  the  yellow 
gleam  of  the  light  shone  in  spectral  coloring.  Winston 
set  his  teeth  determinedly,  and  noiselessly  cocked  his 
revolver.  The  man  was  already  almost  upon  him,  a 
black,  shapeless  bulk,  like  some  unreal  shadow.  Then 
the  younger  stepped  suddenly  forth  into  the  open, 
the  two  meeting  face  to  face.  The  startled  foreman 
stared  incredulous,  bending  forward  as  though  a  ghost 
confronted  him,  his  teeth  showing  between  parted  lips. 

"  Drop  that  club  !"  commanded  Winston,  coldly,  the 
gleam  of  an  uplifted  steel  barrel  in  the  other's  eyes. 
"  Lively,  my  man ;  this  is  a  hair-trigger." 

"  What  the  hell— " 

"  Drop  that  club !  We  '11  discuss  this  case  later. 
There  —  no,  up  with  your  hands;  both  of  them. 
Turn  around  slowly ;  ah,  I  see  you  don  't  tote  a  gun 
down  here.  So  much  the  better,  for  now  we  can  get 
along  to  business  with  fewer  preliminaries." 

He  kicked  the  released  pick-helve  to  one  side  out 
of  sight  in  the  darkness,  his  watchful  eyes  never  stray 
ing  from  the  Irishman's  face.  Burke  stood  sputtering 
curses,  his  hands  held  high,  his  fighting  face  red  from 
impotent  passion.  The  trembling  light  gave  to  the 
scene  a  fantastic  effect,  grimly  humorous. 

"  Who  —  who  the  divil  be  ye  ?  "  The  surprised  man 
thrust  his  head  yet  farther  forward  in  an  effort  to  make 
the  flame  more  clearly  reveal  the  other's  features. 
Winston  drew  the  peak  of  his  miner's  cap  lower. 

"  That  will  make  very  little  difference  to  you,  Jack 
Burke,"  he  said  quietly,  "if  I  have  any  occasion  to 
turn  loose  this  arsenal.  However,  stand  quiet,  and  it 


BETH    NORVELL 

will  afford  me  pleasure  to  give  you  all  necessary  infor 
mation.  Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  I  am  a 
person  to  whom  Biff  Farnham  desires  to  sell  some  stock 
in  this  mine ;  becoming  interested,  I  seek  to  discover 
its  real  value  for  myself,  and  come  down  with  the  night 
shift.  Quite  a  natural  proceeding  on  my  part,  is  n't 
it  ?  Now,  under  such  circumstances,  I  presume  you, 
as  foreman,  would  be  perfectly  willing  to  show  me 
exactly  what  is  being  accomplished  down  here  ? " 

He  paused,  his  lips  smiling  pleasantly,  and  Burke 
stared  at  him,  with  mouth  wide  open,  his  eyes  mere 
black  slits  in  the  gloom.  It  was  a  full  minute  before 
he  regained  control  of  his  voice. 

"  Ye  think  Oi  'm  a  dommed  fool  ?  "  he  ejaculated, 
hoarsely. 

"  No ;  that  is  exactly  what  I  do  not  think,  Burke," 
and  Winston  smiled  again  beneath  his  stern  gray  eyes. 
"  That  is  precisely  why  I  know  you  will  show  me  all 
I  desire  to  see.  A  damn  fool  might  possibly  be 
tempted  to  take  chances  with  this  gun,  and  get  hurt, 
but  you  are  smart  enough  to  understand  that  I  Ve  got 
the  drop  all  right,  and  that  I  mean  business  —  I  mean 
business."  These  words  were  uttered  slowly,  deliber 
ately,  and  the  foreman  involuntarily  dropped  his  lids 
as  though  feeling  them  physically,  the  fingers  of  his 
uplifted  hands  clinching. 

"What- — what  is  it  ye  want  to  see?" 

"  That  tunnel  you  Ve  got  concealed  by  falsework." 

Burke  spat  against  the  rock  wall,  the  perspiration 
standing  forth  on  his  forehead.  But  Irish  pugnacity 
made  him  stubborn. 

[184] 


THE    PROOF    OF    CRIME 

"Who  tould  ye  that  loie?  Shure,  an'  it's  not 
here  ye  '11  be  apt  to  foind  the  loikes  o'  that,  me  man." 

Winston  eyed  him  scornfully. 

"  You  lie,  Burke ;  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes  just 
beyond  that  second  turn  yonder.  You  cannot  play 
with  me,  and  the  sooner  you  master  that  fact  the  better. 
Now,  you  can  take  your  choice  —  lead  on  as  I  order, 
and  keep  your  men  away,  or  eat  lead.  It 's  one  or  the 
other  within  the  next  sixty  seconds.  Turn  around !  " 

No  man  in  his  senses  would  ever  doubt  the  deter 
mined  purpose  lying  behind  those  few  low-spoken, 
earnest  words.  Whoever  this  man  might  be,  what 
ever  his  purpose,  he  was  assuredly  not  there  in  sport, 
and  Burke  wheeled  about  as  though  some  concealed 
spring  controlled  his  action. 

"Good,"  commented  Winston,  briefly.  "You  can 
lower  your  hands.  Now,  walk  straight  forward,  speak 
ing  only  when  I  tell  you,  and  never  forget  there  is  a 
gun-barrel  within  two  feet  of  your  back.  The  slightest 
movement  of  treachery,  and,  God  helping  me,  Burke, 
I  '11  turn  loose  every  cartridge  into  your  body.  I 
don  't  want  to  do  it,  but  I  will." 

They  moved  slowly  forward  along  the  deserted  tun 
nel,  not  unlike  two  convicts  in  lock-step,  Burke  sul 
lenly  growling,  a  burly,  shapeless  figure  under  the 
light  in  his  hat;  Winston  alert,  silent,  watchful  for 
treachery,  the  glimmer  of  the  lamp  full  on  his  stern 
face.  Their  shadows  glided,  ever  changing  in  confor 
mation,  along  the  walls,  their  footfalls  resounding  hollow 
from  the  echoing  passage.  There  were  no  words 
wasted  in  either  command  or  explanation.  Without 


BETH    NORVELL 

doubt,  the  foreman  understood  fairly  well  the  purpose 
of  this  unknown  invader  ;  but  he  realized,  also,  that  the 
man  had  never  lightly  assumed  such  risk  of  discovery, 
and  he  had  lived  long  enough  among  desperate  men 
to  comprehend  all  that  a  loaded  gun  meant  when  the 
eye  behind  was  hard  and  cool.  The  persuasive  elo 
quence  of  "  the  drop  "  was  amply  sufficient  to  enforce 
obedience.  Farnham  be  hanged!  He  felt  slight 
inclination  at  that  moment  to  die  for  the  sake  of  Farn 
ham.  Winston,  accustomed  to  gauging  men,  easily 
comprehended  this  mental  attitude  of  his  prisoner,  his 
eyes  smiling  in  appreciation  of  the  other's  promptness, 
although  his  glance  never  once  wavered,  his  guarding 
hand  never  fell.  Burke  was  safe  enough  now,  yet  he 
was  not  to  be  trifled  with,  not  to  be  trusted  for 
an  instant,  in  the  playing  out  of  so  desperate  a  game. 
At  the  angle  the  two  halted,  while  the  engineer  cau 
tiously  reconnoitred  the  dimly  revealed  regions  in 
front.  He  could  perceive  but  little  evidence  of  life, 
excepting  the  faint  radiance  of  constantly  moving  lights 
down  Number  One  tunnel.  Burke  stood  sullenly 
silent,  venturing  upon  no  movement  except  under 
command. 

"  Anybody  down  that  other  entry  ?  " 

The  foreman  shook  his  head,  without  glancing 
around,  his  jaws  moving  steadily  on  the  tobacco  that 
swelled  his  cheek. 

"Then  lead  on  down  it." 

Winston  stretched  forth  his  unused  left  hand  as  they 
proceeded,  his  fingers  gliding  along  the  wall,  his  obser 
vant  eyes  wandering  slightly  from  off  the  broad  back 

[,86] 


THE    PROOF    OF    CRIME 

of  his  prisoner  toward  the  sides  and  roof  of  the  tunnel. 
To  his  experience  it  was  at  once  plainly  evident 
this  preliminary  cutting  had  been  made  through  solid 
rock,  not  in  the  following  of  any  seam,  but  cross- 
ways.  Here  alone  was  disclosed  evidence  in  plenty 
of  deliberate  purpose,  of  skilfully  planned  depreda 
tion.  He  halted  Burke,  with  one  hand  gripping  his 
shoulder. 

"Are  you  people  following  an  ore-lead  back  yon 
der  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

The  Irishman  squirmed,  glancing  back  at  his  ques 
tioner.  He  saw  nothing  in  that  face  to  yield  any 
encouragement  to  deceit. 

"Sure,"  he  returned  gruffly,  "we're  follyin'  it  all 
down  that  Number  Wan." 

"What 's  the  nature  of  the  ore  body  ? " 

"A  bit  low  grade,  wid  a  thrift e  of  copper,  an'  the 
vein  is  n't  overly  tick." 

"  How  far  have  you  had  to  cut  across  here  before 
striking  color? " 

"'Bout  thirty  fate  o'  rock  work." 

"  Hike  on,  you  thief,"  commanded  the  engineer,  his 
jaw  setting  threateningly. 

It  proved  a  decidedly  crooked  passage,  the  top 
uneven  in  height,  clearly  indicating  numerous  faults 
in  the  vein,  although  none  of  these  were  sufficiently 
serious  to  necessitate  the  solution  of  any  difficult  mining 
problem.  In  spite  of  the  turns  the  general  direction 
could  be  ascertained  easily.  The  walls  were  appar 
ently  of  some  soft  stone,  somewhat  disintegrated  by 
the  introduction  of  air,  and  the  engineer  quickly 


BETH    NOR VELL 

comprehended  that  pick  and  lever  alone  had  been 
required  to  dislodge  the  interlying  vein  of  ore.  At 
the  extreme  end  of  this  tunnel  the  pile  of  broken 
rock  lying  scattered  about  clearly  proclaimed  recent 
labor,  although  no  discarded  mining  tools  were 
visible.  Winston  examined  the  exposed  ore-vein, 
now  clearly  revealed  by  Burke's  flickering  lamp,  and 
dropped  a  few  detached  specimens  into  his  pocket. 
Then  he  sat  down  on  an  outcropping  stone,  the 
revolver  still  gleaming  within  his  fingers,  and  ordered 
the  sullen  foreman  to  a  similar  seat  opposite.  The 
yellow  rays  of  the  light  sparkled  brilliantly  from  off 
the  outcropping  mass,  and  flung  its  radiance  across 
the  faces  of  the  two  men.  For  a  moment  the  silence  was 
so  intense  they  could  hear  water  drip  somewhere  afar 
off. 

"  Burke,"  asked  the  engineer  suddenly,  "  how  long 
have  you  fellows  been  in  here?" 

The  uneasy  Irishman  shifted  his  quid,  apparently 
considering  whether  to  speak  the  truth  or  take  the 
chances  of  a  lie.  Something  within  Winston's  face 
must  have  decided  him  against  the  suggested  falsehood. 

"  Well,  sorr,  Oi  've  only  been  boss  over  this  gang  for 
a  matter  o'  three  months,"  he  said  slowly,  "  an'  they 
was  well  into  this  vein  be  then." 

"  How  deep  are  we  down  ?  " 

"  Between  sixty  an'  siventy  fate,  countin'  it  at  the 
shaft." 

"And  this  tunnel  —  how  long  do  you  make  it?" 

"Wan  hundred  an'  forty-six  fate,  from  the  rock 
yonder." 

['88] 


THE    PROOF    OF    CRIME 

Winston's  gray  eyes,  grave  with  thought,  were  upon 
the  man's  face,  but  the  other  kept  his  own  concealed, 
lowered  to  the  rock  floor. 

"  Who  laid  out  this  work,  do  you  know  ?  Who  did 
the  engineering?" 

"  Oi  think  ut  was  the  ould  man  hisself.  Annyhow, 
that 's  how  thim  Swades  tell  ut." 

Winston  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"Well,  he  knew  his  business,  all  right;  it's  a  neat 
job,"  he  admitted,  a  sudden  note  of  admiration  in  his 
voice.  His  glance  wandered  toward  the  dull  sparkle 
of  the  exposed  ore.  "  I  suppose  you  know  who  all 
this  rightly  belongs  to,  don  't  you,  Burke  ? " 

The  foreman  spat  reflectively  into  the  dark,  a  grim 
smile  bristling  his  red  moustache. 

"  Well,  sorr,  Oi  'm  not  mooch  given  up  to  thinkin', " 
he  replied  calmly.  "  If  it 's  them  ide's  yer  afther, 
maybe  it  wud  be  Farnham  ye'd  betther  interview,  sure, 
an  he  's  the  lad  whut  'tinds  to  that  end  o'  it  for 
this  outfit.  Oi  'm  jist  bossin'  me  gang  durin' 
workin'  hours,  an'  slapin'  the  rist  o'  the  toime  in 
the  bunk-house.  Oi  'm  dommed  if  Oi  care  who  owns 
the  rock." 

The  two  men  sat  in  silence,  Burke  indifferently 
chewing  on  his  quid.  Winston  shifted  the  revolver 
into  his  left  hand,  and  began  slowly  tracing  lines,  and 
marking  distances,  on  the  back  of  an  old  envelope. 
The  motionless  foreman  steadily  watched  him  through 
cautiously  lowered  lashes,  holding  the  lamp  in  his  hat 
perfectly  steady.  Slowly,  with  no  other  muscle  mov 
ing,  both  his  hands  stole  upward  along  his  body ;  inch 

[189] 


BETH    NORVELL 

by  inch  attaining  to  a  higher  position  without  awaken 
ing  suspicion.  His  half-concealed  eyes,  as  watchful  as 
those  of  a  cat,  gleamed  feverishly  beneath  his  hat-brim, 
never  deserting  Winston's  partially  lowered  face. '  Then 
suddenly  his  two  palms  came  together,  the  sputtering 
flame  of  the  lamp  between  them. 


[190] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  RETURN  TO  THE  DAY 

BURKE  knew  better  than   to  attempt   running; 
three  steps  in  the  midst  of  such  blinding  darkness 
would  have  dashed  him  against  unyielding  rock. 
Instantly,  his  teeth  gripped  like  those  of  a  bulldog,  he 
clutched   at   Winston's   throat,   trusting   to    his   great 
strength    for    victory.     Instinctively,    as  one  without 
knowing  why  closes  the  eyes  to  avoid  injury,  the  engi 
neer  dodged  sideways,  Burke's  gripping  fingers  missed 
their  chosen  mark,  and  the  two  men   went  crashing 
down  together  in  desperate  struggle. 

His  revolver  knocked  from  his  grasp  in  the  first 
impetus  of  assault,  his  cheek  bleeding  from  forcible 
contact  with  a  rock  edge,  Winston  fought  in  silent 
ferocity,  one  hand  holding  back  the  Irishman's  search 
ing  fingers,  the  other  firmly  twisting  itself  into  the  soft 
collar  of  his  antagonist's  shirt.  Twice  Burke  struck 
out  heavily,  driving  his  clinched  fist  into  the  other's 
body,  unable  to  reach  the  protected  face ;  then  Winston 
succeeded  in  getting  one  groping  foot  braced  firmly 
against  a  surface  of  rock,  and  whirled  the  surprised 
miner  over  upon  his  back  with  a  degree  of  violence 
that  caused  his  breath  to  burst  forth  in  a  great  sob. 
A  desperate  struggle  ensued,  mad  and  merciless  —  arms 
gripping,  bodies  straining,  feet  rasping  along  the  loose 
stones,  muttered  curses,  the  dull  impact  of  blows. 


BETH    NORVELL 

Neither  could  see  the  other,  neither  could  feel  assured 
his  antagonist  possessed  no  weapon ;  yet  both  fought 
furiously, — Burke  enraged  and  merciless,  Winston 
intoxicated  with  the  lust  of  fight.  Twice  they  reversed 
positions,  the  quickness  of  the  one  fairly  offsetting  the 
burly  strength  of  the  other,  their  sinews  straining,  the 
hot  breath  hissing  between  set  teeth.  Pain  was  unfelt, 
mercy  unknown. 

In  the  midst  of  the  blind  me  tie,  following  some  sav 
age  instinct,  Winston  clinched  his  fingers  desperately 
in  the  Irishman's  hair,  and  began  jamming  him  back 
against  the  irregularities  of  the  rock  floor.  Suddenly 
Burke  went  limp,  and  the  engineer,  panting  painfully, 
lay  outstretched  upon  him,  his  whole  body  quivering, 
barely  conscious  that  he  had  gained  the  victory.  The 
miner  did  not  move,  apparently  he  had  ceased  breath 
ing,  and  Winston,  shrinking  away  from  contact  with 
the  motionless  body,  grasped  a  rock  support  and 
hauled  himself  to  his  feet. 

The  intense  blackness  all  about  dazed  him ;  he 
retained  no  sense  of  direction,  scarcely  any  memory  of 
where  he  was.  His  body,  bruised  and  strained,  pained 
him  severely ;  his  head  throbbed  as  from  fever.  Little 
by  little  the  exhausted  breath  came  back,  and  with  it 
a  slow  realization  of  his  situation.  Had  he  killed 
Burke?  He  stared  down  toward  the  spot  where  he 
knew  the  body  lay,  but  could  perceive  nothing.  The 
mystery  of  the  dark  suddenly  unnerved  him  ;  he  could 
feel  his  hands  tremble  violently  as  he  groped  cautiously 
along  the  smooth  surface  of  the  rock.  He  experi 
enced  a  shrinking,  nervous  dread  of  coming  into 

[192] 


A    RETURN    TO    THE    DAY 

contact  with  that  man  lying  there  beneath  the  black 
mantle,  that  hideous,  silent  form,  perhaps  done  to 
death  by  his  hands.  It  was  a  revolt  of  the  soul.  A 
moment  he  actually  thought  he  was  losing  his  mind, 
feverish  fancies  playing  grim  tricks  before  his  strained, 
agonized  vision,  imagination  peopling  the  black  void 
with  a  riot  of  grotesque  figures. 

He  gripped  himself  slowly  and  sternly,  his  jaws  set, 
his  tingling  nerves  mastered  by  the  resolute  dominance 
of  an  aroused  will.  Compelling  himself  to  the  act,  he 
bent  down,  feeling  along  the  ground  for  the  foreman's 
hat  having  the  extinguished  lamp  fixed  on  it.  He  was 
a  long  time  discovering  his  object,  yet  the  continued 
effort  brought  back  a  large  measure  of  self-control, 
and  gave  birth  to  a  certain  clearness  of  perception. 
He  held  the  recovered  lamp  in  his  hands,  leaning 
against  the  side  of  the  tunnel,  listening.  The  very 
intensity  of  silence  seemed  to  press  against  him  from 
every  direction  as  though  it  had  weight.  He  was 
still  breathing  heavily,  but  his  strained  ears  could  not 
distinguish  the  slightest  sound  where  he  knew  Burke 
lay  shrouded  in  the  darkness.  Nothing  reached  him 
to  break  the  dread,  horrible  silence,  excepting  that 
far-off,  lonely  trickle  of  dripping  water.  He  hesitated, 
match  in  hand,  shrinking  childishly  from  the  coming 
revealment  of  his  victim.  Yet  why  should  he  ?  Fierce 
as  the  struggle  had  proved,  on  his  part  the  fight  had 
been  entirely  one  of  defence.  He  had  been  attacked, 
and  had  fought  back  only  in  self-preservation.  Win 
ston  harbored  no  animosity ;  the  fierceness  of  actual 
combat  past,  he  dreaded  now  beyond  expression  the 

['93] 


BETH    NORVELL 

thought  that  through  his  savagery  a  human  life  might 
have  been  sacrificed.  The  tiny  flame  of  the  ignited 
match  played  across  his  white  face,  caught  the  wick  of 
the  lamp,  and  flared  up  in  faint  radiance  through  the 
gloom.  Burke,  huddled  into  the  rock  shadow,  never 
stirred,  and  the  anxious  engineer  bent  over  his  motion 
less  form  in  a  horrid  agony  of  fear.  The  man  rested 
partially  upon  one  side,  his  hands  still  gripped  as  in 
struggle,  an  ugly  wound,  made  by  a  jagged  edge  of 
rock,  showing  plainly  in  the  side  of  his  head.  Blood 
had  flowed  freely,  crimsoning  the  stone  beneath,  but 
was  already  congealing  amid  the  thick  mass  of  hair, 
serving  somewhat  to  conceal  the  nature  of  the  injury. 
Winston,  his  head  lowered  upon  the  other's  breast, 
felt  confident  he  detected  breath,  even  a  slight,  spas 
modic  twitching  of  muscles,  and  hastily  arose  to  his 
feet,  his  mind  already  aflame  with  expedients.  The 
foreman  yet  lived;  perhaps  would  not  prove  even  seri 
ously  injured,  if  assistance  only  reached  him  promptly. 
Yet  what  could  he  do?  What  ought  he  to  attempt 
doing?  In  his  present  physical  condition  Winston 
realized  the  utter  impossibility  of  transporting  that 
burly  body ;  water,  indeed,  might  serve  to  revive  him, 
yet  that  faint  trickle  of  falling  drops  probably  came 
from  some  distant  fault  in  the  rock  which  would 
require  much  patient  search  to  locate.  The  engineer 
had  assumed  grave  chances  in  this  venture  underground; 
in  this  moment  of  victory  he  felt  little  inclination  to 
surrender  his  information,  or  to  sacrifice  himself  in  any 
quixotic  devotion  to  his  assailant.  Yet  he  must  give 
the  fellow  a  fair  chance.  There  seemed  only  one  course 

['94] 


A    RETURN    TO    THE    DAY 

practicable,  the  despatching  to  the  helpless  man's  assist 
ance  of  some  among  that  gang  of  workmen  down  in 
Number  One.  But  could  this  be  accomplished  with 
out  danger  of  his  own  discovery  ?  Without  any  imme 
diate  revealment  of  his  part  in  the  tragedy  ?  First  of 
all,  he  must  make  sure  regarding  his  own  safety ;  he 
must  reach  the  surface  before  the  truth  became  known. 

Almost  mechanically  he  picked  up  his  revolver 
where  it  lay  glittering  upon  the  floor,  and  stood  star 
ing  at  that  recumbent  form,  slowly  maturing  a  plan  of 
action.  Little  by  little  it  assumed  shape  within  his 
mind.  Swanson  was  the  name  of  the  missing  miner, 
the  one  Burke  had  gone  back  to  seek,  —  a  Swede 
beyond  doubt,  and,  from  what  slight  glimpse  he  had 
of  the  fellow  before  Brown  grappled  with  him  in  the 
path  above,  a  sturdily  built  fellow,  awkwardly  gaited. 
In  all  probability  such  a  person  would  have  a  deep 
voice,  gruff  from  the  dampness  of  long  working  hours 
below.  Well,  he  might  not  succeed  in  duplicating 
that  exactly,  but  he  could  imitate  Swedish  dialect,  and, 
amid  the  excitement  and  darkness,  trust  to  luck.  Let 
us  see ;  Burke  had  surely  called  one  of  those  miners 
yonder  Ole,  another  Peterson  ;  it  would  probably  help 
in  throwing  the  fellows  off  their  guard  to  hear  their 
own  names  spoken,  and  they  most  naturally  would 
expect  Swanson  to  be  with  the  foreman.  It  appeared 
feasible  enough,  and  assuredly  was  the  only  plan  possi 
ble;  it  must  be  risked,  the  earlier  the  better.  The 
thought  never  once  occurred  to  him  of  thus  doing 
injury  to  a  perfectly  innocent  man. 

He  looked  once  more  anxiously  at  the  limp  figure 

[195] 


BETH    NORVELL 

of  the  prostrate  Burke,  and  then,  holding  the  lamp  out 
before  him,  moved  cautiously  down  the  passage  toward 
the  main  tunnel.  Partially  concealing  himself  amid  the 
denser  shadows  behind  the  displaced  falsework,  he 
was  enabled  to  look  safely  down  the  opening  of  Num 
ber  One,  and  could  perceive  numerous  dark  figures 
moving  about  under  flickering  rays  of  light,  while  his 
ears  distinguished  a  sound  of  voices  between  the  strokes 
of  the  picks.  He  crept  still  closer,  shadowing  his 
lamp  between  his  hands,  and  crouching  uneasily  in  the 
shadows.  The  group  of  men  nearest  him  were  undoubt 
edly  Swedes,  as  they  were  conversing  in  that  language, 
working  with  much  deliberation  in  the  absence  of  the 
boss.  Winston  rose  up,  his  shadow  becoming  plainly 
visible  on  the  rock  wall,  one  hand  held  before  his 
mouth  to  better  muffle  the  sound  of  his  voice.  The 
hollow  echoing  along  those  underground  caverns  tended 
to  make  all  noise  unrecognizable. 

"Yust  two  of  you  fellars  bettar  come  by  me,  an' 
gif  a  leeft,"  he  ventured,  doubtfully. 

Those  nearer  faces  down  the  tunnel  were  turned 
toward  the  voice  in  sudden,  bewildered  surprise,  the 
lights  flickering  as  the  heads  uplifted. 

"  Vas  it  you,  Nels  Swanson  ?  " 

"  Yas,  I  tank  so ;  I  yust  want  Peterson  an'  Ole. 
Meester  Burke  vas  got  hurt  in  the  new  level,  an'  I 
could  n't  leeft  him  alone." 

He  saw  the  two  start  promptly,  dropping  their  picks, 
their  heavy  boots  crunching  along  the  floor,  the  flap 
ping  hat-brims  hiding  their  eyes  and  shadowing  their 
faces.  For  a  moment  he  lingered  beside  the  falsework, 

[.96] 


A    RETURN    TO    THE    DAY 

permitting  the  light  from  his  lamp  to  flicker  before 
them  as  a  beacon ;  then  he  hid  the  tiny  flame  within 
his  cap,  and  ran  swiftly  down  the  main  tunnel.  Con 
fident  now  of  Burke's  early  rescue,  he  must  grasp  this 
opportunity  for  an  immediate  escape  from  the  mine. 
A  hundred  feet  from  the  foot  of  the  shaft  he  suddenly 
came  upon  the  advancing  tram-car,  a  diminutive  mule 
pulling  lazily  in  the  rope  traces,  the  humping  figure  of 
a  boy  hanging  on  behind.  The  two  gazed  at  each 
other  through  the  smoke  of  a  sputtering  wick. 

"  Hurry  up,"  spoke  Winston,  sharply.  "  Burke  's 
hurt,  and  they  '11  need  your  car  to  carry  him  out  in. 
What 's  the  signal  for  the  cage  ? " 

The  boy  stood  silent,  his  mouth  wide  open,  staring 
at  him  stupidly. 

"  Do  you  hear,  you  lunk-head?  I  'm  after  a  doctor; 
how  do  you  signal  the  cage? " 

"  Twa  yanks  on  the  cord,  meester,"  was  the  grudg 
ing  reply.  "  Wha  was  ye,  onyhow  ?"  But  Winston, 
unheeding  the  question,  was  already  off,  his  only 
thought  the  necessity  of  immediately  attaining  the  sur 
face  in  safety,  ahead  of  the  spreading  of  an  alarm. 

The  cage  shot  speedily  upward  through  the  intense 
darkness,  past  the  deserted  forty-foot  gallery,  and 
emerged  into  the  gray  light  of  dawn  flooding  the  shaft- 
house.  Blinking  from  those  long  hours  .passed  in  the 
darkness  below,  Winston  distinguished  dimly  a  num 
ber  of  strange  figures  grouped  before  him.  An  instant 
he  paused  in  uncertainty,  his  hand  shading  his  eyes ; 
then,  as  he  stepped  almost  blindly  forward  he  came 
suddenly  face  to  face  with  Biff  Farnham.  A  second 


BETH    NORVELL 

their  glances  met,  both  alike  startled,  bewildered, 
doubtful  —  then  the  jaw  of  the  gambler  set  firm,  his 
hand  dropped  like  lightning  toward  his  hip,  and  Win 
ston,  every  ounce  of  strength  thrown  into  the  swift 
blow,  struck  him  squarely  between  the  eyes.  The  man 
went  over  as  though  shot,  yet  before  he  even  hit  the 
floor,  the  other  had  leaped  across  the  reeling  body,  and 
dashed,  stumbling  and  falling,  down  the  steep  slope  of 
the  dump-pile,  crashing  head  first  into  the  thick  under 
brush  below. 


[198] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR 

IN  the  magic  of  a  moment  a  dozen  angry  men 
were  pouring  from  the  shaft-house,  their  guns 
barking  viciously  between  their  curses.  Beyond, 
at  the  edge  of  their  dark  cover,  Hicks  and  Brown  rose 
eagerly  to  their  knees,  while  their  ready  rifles  spat 
swift  return  fire,  not  all  of  it  wasted.  But  Winston  had 
vanished  in  the  green  underbrush  as  completely  as 
though  he  had  dropped  into  the  sea.  When  he  finally 
emerged  it  was  behind  the  protecting  chaparral,  his 
clothing  rags,  his  breathing  the  sobs  of  utter  exhaustion. 
Brown,  the  spell  of  battle  upon  him,  never  glanced 
aside,  his  eyes  along  the  brown  rifle-barrel;  but  Hicks 
sprang  enthusiastically  to  his  feet,  uttering  a  growl  of 
hearty  welcome. 

"  Damn  it,"  he  exclaimed,  his  old  eyes  twinkling 
with  admiration,  "  but  you  're  a  man  !  " 

The  engineer  smiled,  his  hand  pressed  hard  against 
his  side.  "  Maybe  I  am,"  he  gasped, "  but  I  'm  mighty 
near  all  in  just  now.  Say,  that  was  a  lively  spin,  and 
it 's  got  to  be  an  eat  and  a  rest  for  me  next." 

Hicks  shaded  his  forehead,  leaning  on  his  rifle. 

"  Sometimes  I  reckon  maybe  I  don't  see  quite  as 
good  as  I  used  to,"  he  explained  regretfully.  "  Put  five 
shots  inter  that  measly  bunch  over  thar  just  now,  an' 
never  saw  even  one  o'  'em  hop  'round  like  they  got 


BETH    NORVELL 

stung.  They  look  sorter  misty-like  ter  me  from  here  ; 
say,  Stutter,  what  is  a-happenin'  over  thar  now, 
anyway  ? " 

Brown  wiped  his  face  deliberately,  sputtering  fiercely 
as  he  strove  to  get  firm  grip  on  his  slow  thought. 

"A-a-ain't  much  o'  n-nuthing,  so  f-f-fur 's  I  kin 
s-see,"  he  replied  gravely.  "  C-couple  o'  fellars  w-with 
g-guns  h-h-hidin'  back  o'  ther  d-dump.  C-c-carried 
two  b-bucks  'hind  ther  sh-shaft-house  ;  h-h-hurt  some, 
I  'speck.  R-reckon  I  must  a'  g-got  both  on  'em. 
Y-y-you  shore  ought  t-ter  wear  t-t-telescopes,  Bill." 

Hicks  stared  at  his  partner,  his  gray  goat-beard 
sticking  straight  out,  his  teeth  showing. 

"  So  yer  got  'em,  hey  ? "  he  retorted,  savagely. 
"  Oh,  ye  're  chain-lightnin',  yer  are,  Stutter.  Ye  're 
the  'riginal  Doctor  Carver,  yer  long-legged,  sputtering 
lunk-head.  Yer  crow  like  a  rooster  thet  's  just  found 
its  voice.  Now,  look  yere  ;  I  reckon  it 's  brain-work 
what 's  got  ter  git  us  out  o'  this  yere  hole,  an'  I  '11 
shore  have  ter  furnish  most  o'  that,  fer  yer  ain  't  got 
none  ter  spare,  as  ever  I  noticed.  Shoot !  hell,  yes, 
yer  kin  shoot  all  right,  an'  make  love  ter  Greasers ; 
but  when  thet 's  over  with,  yer  all  in.  That 's  when  it 's 
up  ter  old  Bill  Hicks  ter  do  the  thinkin'  act,  and  make 
good.  Lord !  yer  leave  me  plumb  tired."  The  old 
man  peered  out  across  the  vacant  space  toward  the 
apparently  deserted  dump,  the  anger  slowly  fading 
away  from  his  eyes.  "  I  sorter  imagine,  gents,  it  will 
take  them  fellers  a  while  ter  git  over  ther  sudden  shock 
we  Ve  given  'em,"  he  continued.  "  Maybe  we  better 
take  this  yere  rest  spell  ter  git  somethin'  ter  eat  in,  and 

[200] 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR 

talk  over  how  we  're  fixed  fer  when  the  curtain  goes  up 
again.  Them  fellers  never  won't  be  happy  till  after 
they  git  another  dose  into  their  systems,  an'  thar  's 
liable  ter  be  some  considerable  lead  eat  afore  night. 
When  they  does  git  braced  up,  an'  they  reckon  up  all 
this  yere  means,  they  '11  shore  be  an  ugly  bunch." 

Behind  the  safe  protection  of  the  low-growing  cedars 
the  three  men  walked  slowly  toward  the  cabin  of  the 
"  Little  Yankee,"  seemingly  utterly  oblivious  to  any 
danger  lurking  behind.  As  they  thus  advanced  Win 
ston  related  briefly  his  discoveries  in  the  lower  levels 
of  the  "  Independence,"  referring  to  his  personal  adven 
tures  merely  as  the  needs  of  the  simple  narrative 
required.  Brown,  his  rifle  at  trail,  his  boyish  face 
sober  with  thought,  indulged  in  no  outward  comment, 
but  Hicks  burst  forth  with  words  of  fervent  commen 
dation. 

"  By  cracky,  are  yer  shore  that  was  Farnham  yer 
hit  ? "  he  exclaimed,  his  old  eyes  gleaming  in  apprecia 
tion.  "  Blame  me,  Stutter,  what  do  yer  think  o'  that? 
Punched  him  afore  he  cud  even  pull  his  gun ;  never 
heerd  o'  no  sich  miracle  afore  in  this  yere  camp.  Why, 
Lord,  that  fellar  's  quicker  'n  chain-lightnin' ;  I  've 
seen  him  onlimber  more  'n  once." 

"  I-I  reckon  h-h-he  won't  be  v-very  likely  ter  1-let 
up  on  yer  now,  M-m-mister  W- Winston,"  put  in  the 
young  giant  cautiously.  "  H-he  ain't  ther  kind  t-ter 
fergit  no  sich  d-d-deal." 

"Him  let  up!  —  hell!"  and  Hicks  stopped  sud 
denly,  and  stared  behind.  "  He  '11  never  let  up  on 
nothin',  that  fellar.  He  '11  be  down  after  us  all  right, 

[201] 


BETH    NORVELL 

as  soon  as  he  gits  his  second  wind,  an'  Winston  here 
is  a-goin'  ter  git  plugged  for  this  night's  shindy,  if 
Farnham  ever  fair  gits  the  drop  on  him.  He  ain't 
got  no  more  mercy  'n  a  tiger.  Yer  kin  gamble  on  that, 
boys.  He  '11  git  ther  whole  parcel  o'  us  if  he  kin, 
'cause  he  knows  now  his  little  game  is  up  if  he  does  n't; 
but  he  '11  aim  ter  git  Winston,  anyhow.  Did  ye  make 
any  tracin's  while  yer  was  down  thar?" 

"Yes,  I've  got  the  plans  in  detail;  my  distances 
may  not  be  exactly  correct,  but  they  are  approximately, 
and  I  would  be  willing  to  go  on  the  stand  with  them." 

"  Good  boy  !  That  means  we  've  shore  got  'em  on  the 
hip.  They  're  a-keepin'  quiet  over  there  yet,  ain't 
they,  Stutter?  Well,  let 's  have  our  chuck  out  yere  in 
the  open,  whar'  we  kin  keep  our  eyes  peeled,  an'  while 
we  're  eatin'  we  '11  talk  over  what  we  better  do  next." 

The  kitchen  of  the  "Little  Yankee"  was  situated 
out  of  doors,  a  small  rift  in  the  face  of  the  bluff  form 
ing  a  natural  fireplace,  while  a  narrow  crevice  between 
rocks  acted  as  chimney,  and  carried  away  the  smoke. 
The  preparation  of  an  ordinary  meal  under  such  prim 
itive  conditions  was  speedily  accomplished,  the  menu 
not  being  elaborate  nor  the  service  luxurious.  Win 
ston  barely  found  time  in  which  to  wash  the  grime  from 
his  hands  and  face,  and  hastily  shift  out  of  his  ragged 
working  clothes  to  the  suit  originally  worn,  when  Hicks 
announced  the  spread  ready,  and  advised  a  lively  fall 
ing  to.  The  dining-room  was  a  large,  flat  stone  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  bluff,  sufficiently  elevated  to  command 
a  practically  unobstructed  view  of  the  distant  shaft- 
house  of  the  "Independence."  Hicks  brought  from 

[202] 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR 

the  cabin  an  extra  rifle,  with  belt  rilled  with  ammuni 
tion,  which  he  gravely  held  out  to  the  engineer. 

"  These  yere  fixings  will  come  in  handy  pretty  soon, 
I  reckon,"  he  remarked  significantly,  and  stood  quietly 
on  the  edge  of  the  rock,  holding  a  powerful  field-glass 
to  his  eyes. 

"  They  Ve  brought  ther  night-shift  up  ter  the  top," 
he  commented  finally,  "an  they  're  'rousin'  them  others 
outer  ther  bunk-house.  Hell  '11  be  piping  hot  pres 
ently.  'Bout  half  them  fellers  are  a-totin'  guns,  too. 
Ah,  I  thought  so  —  thar  goes  a  lad  horseback,  hell- 
bent-fer-'lection  down  the  trail,  huntin'  after  more 
roughs,  I  reckon.  Well,  ther  more  ther  merrier,  as  ther 
ol'  cat  said  when  she  counted  her  kittens.  Darned  ef 
they  ain't  got  a  reg'lar  skirmish  line  thrown  out  'long 
ther  gulch  yonder.  Yer  bet  they  mean  business  for 
shore,  Stutter,  ol'  boy." 

Brown,  deliberately  engaged  in  pouring  the  coffee, 
contented  himself  with  a  slight  grunt,  and  a  quick 
glance  in  the  direction  indicated.  Hicks  slowly  closed 
his  glasses,  and  seated  himself  comfortably  on  the  edge 
of  the  rock.  Winston,  already  eating,  but  decidedly 
anxious,  glanced  at  the  two  emotionless  faces  with 
curiosity. 

"The  situation  does  n't  seem  to  worry  either  of  you 
very  much,"  he  said  at  last.  "  If  you  really  expect  an 
attack  from  those  fellows  over  there,  is  n't  it  about  time 
we  were  arranging  for  some  defence? " 

Hicks  looked  over  at  him  across  the  rim  of  his  tin  cup. 

"  Defence  ?  Hell !  here  's  our  defence  —  four  o'  us, 
countin'  Mike." 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Where  is  Mike  ? " 

"  Oh,  out  yonder  in  ther  back  yard  amusin'  that 
Swede  Stutter  yere  brought  in  ter  him  fer  a  playthin'. 
Them  foreigners  seem  ter  all  be  gittin'  mighty  chummy 
o'  late.  Stutter  yere  is  a-takin'  up  with  Greasers,  an' 
Mike  with  Swedes.  I  reckon  I  '11  have  ter  be  lookin' 
round  fer  an  Injun,  er  else  play  a  lone  hand  purty 
soon." 

Brown,  his  freckled  face  hotly  flushed,  his  eyes 
grown  hard,  struck  the  rock  with  clinched  hand. 

"D-d-damn  you,  B-Bill,"  he  stuttered  desperately, 
his  great  chest  heaving.  "  I-I  've  had  jist  'nough  o' 
th-th-thet  sorter  talk.  Yer  s-s-spit  out  'nuther  word 
'bout  her,  an'  th-th-thar  '11  be  somethin'  e-else  a-doin'." 

Old  Hicks  laughed,  his  gray  goat-beard  waggling, 
yet  it  was  clearly  evident  he  appreciated  the  temper  of 
his  partner,  and  realized  the  limit  of  patience. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  pass,"  he  confessed  genially.  "  Lord  ! 
I  hed  a  touch  o'  that  same  disease  oncet  myself.  But 
thar  ain't  no  sense  in  yer  fightin'  me,  Stutter;  I  bet 
yer  git  practice  'nough  arter  awhile,  'less  them  thar 
black  eyes  o'  hern  be  mighty  deceivin'.  But  that  thar 
may  keep.  Jist  now  we  Ve  got  a  few  other  p'ints  ter 
consider.  You  was  askin'  about  our  defence,  Mr. 
Winston,  when  this  yere  love-sick  kid  butted  in  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  it 's  ther  lay  o'  ther  ground,  an'  four  good 
rifles.  Thet  's  ther  whole  o'  it ;  them  fellers  over 
yonder  can't  get  in,  an'  I  'm  damned  if  we  kin  git  out. 
Whichever  party  gits  tired  first  is  the  one  what 's  goin' 
ter  git  licked." 

[204] 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR 

"  I  scarcely  understand,  Hicks ;  do  you  mean  you 
propose  standing  a  siege  ? " 

"  Don't  clearly  perceive  nothin'  else  ter  do,"  and  the 
man's  half-closed  eyes  glanced  about  questioningly. 
"We  ain't  strong  enough  to  assault;  Farnham 's  got 
more  'n  five  men  ter  our  one  over  thar  right  now. 
He  's  sent  a  rider  inter  San  Juan  arter  another  bunch  o' 
beauties.  We  've  corralled  the  evidence,  an'  we  've 
got  ther  law  back  o'  us,  ter  send  him  ter  the  peniten 
tiary.  Shore,  thar 's  no  doubt  o'  it.  He  knows  it; 
an'  he  knows,  moreover,  thar  ain't  no  way  out  fer  him 
except  ter  plant  us  afore  we  kin  ever  git  inter  ther 
courts.  Thet  's  his  game  jist  now.  Do  yer  think  Mr. 
Biff  Farnham  under  them  circumstances  is  liable  ter  do 
the  baby  act  ?  Not  ter  no  great  extent,  let  me  tell  yer. 
He  ain't  built  thet  way.  Besides,  he  hates  me  like 
pizen ;  I  reckon  by  this  time  he  don't  harbor  no  great 
love  for  you ;  an'  yer  bet  he  means  ter  git  us  afore  we 
kin  squeal,  if  he  has  ter  h'ist  the  whole  damned  mount 
ing.  Anyhow,  that 's  how  it  looks  ter  me  an'  Stutter 
yere.  What  was  it  you  was  goin'  ter  advise,  Mr. 
Winston  ? " 

The  engineer  set  down  his  tin  coffee  cup. 

"  The  immediate  despatching  of  a  messenger  to  San 
Juan,  the  swearing  out  of  a  warrant  for  Farnham  on  a 
criminal  charge,  and  getting  the  sheriff  up  here  with  a 
posse." 

Hicks  smiled  grimly,  his  glance  wandering  over 
toward  Stutter,  who  sat  staring  open-eyed  at  the 
engineer. 

"Ye 're  a  young  man,  sir,  an'  I  rather  reckon  yer 
[205] 


BETH    NORVELL 

don't  precisely  onderstan'  ther  exact  status  o'  things 
out  yere  in  Echo  Canyon,"  he  admittted,  gravely. 
"  I  'm  law-abidin',  an'  all  that ;  law 's  all  right  in  its 
place,  an'  whar  it  kin  be  enforced,  but  Echo  Canyon 
ain't  Denver,  an'  out  yere  ther  rifle,  an'  occasionally 
a  chunk  o'  dynamite,  hes  got  ter  be  considered  afore 
ther  courts  git  any  chance  ter  look  over  ther  evidence. 
It 's  ginerally  lead  first,  an'  lawyers  later.  Thet  's  what 
makes  the  game  interestin',  an*  gives  sich  chaps  as 
Farnham  a  run  fer  their  money.  Well,  just  now 
we  Ve  got  the  law  an'  ther  evidence  with  us  all  right, 
but,  damn  ther  luck,  them  other  fellers  hes  got  the 
rifles.  It  's  his  play  first,  an'  it  sorter  looks  ter  me 
as  if  the  man  knew  how  ter  handle  his  cards.  He  ain't 
no  bluffer,  either.  Just  take  a  squint  through  them 
glasses  down  the  trail,  an'  tell  me  what  yer  see." 

Winston  did  so,  rising  to  his  feet,  standing  at  the 
edge  of  the  rock  fairly  overhanging  the  valley. 

"  Wai,  do  yer  make  out  anythin'  in  partic'lar  ? " 

"  There  is  a  small  party  of  men  clustered  near  the 
big  boulder." 

"Exactly;  wal,  them  thar  fellars  ain't  thar  altergether 
fer  ther  health.  Thar  's  three  more  o'  ther  same  kind 
a-squattin'  in  the  bushes  whar  the  path  branches  toward 
ther  'Independence,'  an'  another  bunch  lower  down  'side 
ther  crick.  It 's  easy  'nough  ter  talk  about  law,  an'  ther 
sendin'  o'  a  messenger  down  ter  San  Juan  after  the  sheriff", 
but  I  'd  hate  some  ter  be  that  messenger.  He  'd  have 
some  considerable  excitement  afore  he  got  thar.  Farn 
ham  's  a  dirty  villain,  all  right,  but  he  ain't  no  fool. 
He's  got  us  bottled  up  yere,  and  ther  cork  druv  in." 

[206] 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR 

"  You  mean  we  are  helpless  ?  " 

"Wai,  not  precisely;  not  while  our  grub  and 
ammunition  holds  out.  I  merely  intimate  thet  this 
yere  difficulty  hes  naturally  got  ter  be  thrashed  out 
with  guns  —  good,  honest  fightin'  —  afore  any  courts 
will  git  a  chance  even  ter  sit  inter  ther  game.  We  ain't 
got  no  time  jist  now  ter  fool  with  lawyers.  Clubs  is 
trumps  this  deal  in  Echo  Canyon,  an'  we  're  goin'  ter 
play  a  lone  hand.  Ther  one  thing  what 's  botherin' 
me  is,  how  soon  ther  damned  fracas  is  goin'  ter  begin. 
I  reckon  as  how  them  fellers  is  only  waitin'  fer  rein 
forcements." 

Winston  sat  motionless,  looking  at  the  two  men,  his 
mind  rapidly  grasping  the  salient  points  of  the  situation. 
He  was  thoroughly  puzzled  at  their  apparent  indiffer 
ence  to  its  seriousness.  He  was  unused  to  this  arbit 
rament  of  the  rifle,  and  the  odds  against  them  seemed 
heavy.  Old  Hicks  easily  comprehended  the  expres 
sion  upon  his  face,  and  solemnly  stroked  his  goat- 
beard. 

"  Ain't  used  ter  that  sort  o'  thing,  hey  ? "  he  asked 
at  last,  his  obstinate  old  eyes  contracting  into  mere 
slits.  "Reckon  we're  in  a  sort  o'  pickle,  don't  ye? 
Wai,  I  don't  know  'bout  that.  Yer  see,  me  an'  Stutter 
have  bin  sort  o'  lookin'  fer  somethin'  like  this  ter  occur 
fer  a  long  time,  an'  we  Ve  consequently  got  it  figgered 
out  ter  a  purty  fine  p'int.  When  Farnham  an'  his 
crowd  come  moseying  up  yere,  they  ain't  goin'  ter 
have  it  all  their  own  way,  let  me  tell  yer,  pardner. 
Do  yer  see  that  straight  face  o'  rock  over  yonder?  "  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  pointing  across  his  shoulder.  "  Wai, 

[207] 


BETH    NORVE  LL 

that 's  got  a  front  o'  thirty  feet,  an'  slopes  back  'bout 
as  fur,  with  a  shelf  hangin'  over  it  like  a  roof.  Best 
nat'ral  fort  ever  I  see,  an'  only  one  way  o'  gittin'  inter 
it,  an'  that  the  devil  o'  a  crooked  climb.  Wai,  we  've 
stocked  that  place  fer  a  siege  with  chuck  an'  ammuni 
tion,  an'  I  reckon  four  men  kin  'bout  hold  it  agin  the 
whole  county  till  hell  freezes  over.  It's  in  easy  rifle 
shot  o'  both  ther  cabin  an'  ther  shaft,  an'  that  BifF 
Farnham  is  mighty  liable  ter  git  another  shock  when 
he  comes  traipsin'  up  yere  fer  ter  wipe  out  ther  *  Little 
Yankee.'  Ol'  Bill  Hicks  ain't  bin  prospectin'  fer 
thirty  years,  an'  holdin'  down  claims  with  a  gun,  with 
out  learnin'  somethin'  about  ther  business.  I  'm  ready 
to  buck  this  yere  Farnham  at  any  game  he  wants  ter 
play;  damned  if  he  can't  take  his  chice,  law  er  rifles, 
an'  I  '11  give  him  a  bellyful  either  way." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  long  while,  the  three  men  appar 
ently  occupied  with  their  own  thoughts.  To  Winston 
it  was  a  tragedy,  picturesque,  heroic,  the  wild  mountain 
setting  furnishing  a  strange  dignity.  Brown  finally 
cleared  his  throat,  preparing  to  speak,  his  great  hand 
slowly  rubbing  his  chin. 

"  I-I  sorter  w-w-wish  them  w-wimmen  wan't  y-yere," 
he  stuttered,  doubtfully. 

The  engineer  glanced  up  in  sudden  astonishment. 

"Women  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you  have  women  with  you? " 

Hicks  chuckled  behind  his  beard. 

"Shore  we  have  thet  —  all  ther  comforts  o'  home. 
Nice  place  fer  a  picnic,  ain't  it?  But  I  reckon  as  how 
them  gals  will  have  ter  take  pot-luck  with  the  rest  o' 

[208] 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR 

us.  Leastways,  I  don't  see  no  chance  now  ter  get  shuck 
o'  'em.  I  '11  tell  ye  how  it  happened,  Mr.  Winston ; 
it  'd  take  Stutter,  yere,  too  blame  long  ter  relate  ther 
story,  only  I  hope  he  won't  fly  off  an'  git  mad  if  I 
chance  ter  make  mention  o'  his  gal  'long  with  the  other. 
He  's  gittin'  most  damn  touchy,  is  Stutter,  an'  I  'm  all 
a-tremble  fer  fear  he  '11  blow  a  hole  cl'ar  through  me. 
It's  hell,  love  is,  whin  it  gits  a  good  hoi'  on  a  damn 
fool.  Wai,  these  yere  two  bloomin'  females  came 
cavortin'  up  the  trail  this  mornin',  just  afore  daylight. 
Nobody  sent  'em  no  invite,  but  they  sorter  conceived 
they  had  a  mission  in  ther  wilderness.  I  wa'nt  nowise 
favorable  ter  organizin'  a  reception  committee,  an'  voted 
fer  shovin'  'em  back  downhill,  bein'  a  bit  skeery  o' 
that  sex,  but  it  seems  that,  all  unbeknownst  ter  me, 
Stutter,  yere,  hed  bin  gittin'  broke  ter  harness.  An' 
what  did  he  do  but  come  prancin'  inter  the  argument 
with  a  gun,  cussin'  an'  swearin',  and  insistin'  they  be 
received  yere  as  honored  guests.  Oh,  he  's  got  it  bad. 
He  '11  likely  'nough  go  down  ter  San  Juan  soon  as  ever 
ther  road  is  cl'ar,  an'  buy  one  o'  them  motters  £  God 
Bless  Our  Home '  ter  hang  on  ther  cabin  wall,  an'  a 
door-mat  with  f  Welcome'  on  it.  That 's  Stutter  — 
gone  cl'ar  bug-house  jist  'cause  a  little  black-haired, 
slim  sort  o'  female  made  eyes  at  him.  Blame  a  fool, 
anyhow.  Wai,  one  o'  them  two  was  Stutter's  catch,  a 
high-kickin'  Mexican  dancin'  gal  down  ter  San  Juan. 
I  ain't  goin'  ter  tell  yer  what  I  think  o'  her  fer  fear  o' 
gittin'  perforated.  She  hed  'long  with  her  another 
performer,  a  darn  good-looker,  too,  as  near  as  I  could 
make  out  in  the  dark.  Wai,  them  two  gals  was 

[209] 


BETH    NORVELL 

purtendin'  ter  be  huntin'  arter  you ;  wanted  ter  warn  yer 
agin  Farnham,  er  some  sich  rot.  You  was  down  ther 
mine,  jist  then,  so  that 's  the  whole  o'  it  up  ter  date." 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

"  In  the  cabin  yonder,  sleepin'  I  reckon." 

Winston  turned  hastily  toward  Brown,  his  lips 
quivering,  his  eyes  grown  stern. 

"Who  was  it  with  Mercedes  ? "  he  questioned  sharply. 
"  Did  you  learn  her  name  ?  " 

"Sh-she  told  me  d-d-down  at  San  Juan,"  replied 
Stutter,  striving  hard  to  recollect.  "  It  w-w-was  N- 
N-Nor-vell." 

With  the  utterance  of  the  word  the  young  engineer 
was  striding  rapidly  toward  the  cabin. 


[210] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  CONFESSION 

THROUGH  the  single  unglazed  window  Beth 
Norvell  saw  him  coming,  and  clutched  at  the 
casing,  trembling  violently,  half  inclined  to  turn 
and  fly.  This  was  the  moment  she  had  so  greatly 
dreaded,  yet  the  moment  she  could  not  avoid  unless 
she  failed  to  do  her  duty  to  this  man.  In  another 
instant  the  battle  had  been  fought  and  won,  the  die 
cast.  She  turned  hastily  toward  her  unconscious  com 
panion,  grasping  her  arm. 

"  Mr.  Winston  is  coming,  Mercedes  ;  I  —  I  must 
see  him  this  time  alone." 

The  Mexican's  great  black  eyes  flashed  up  wonder- 
ingly  into  the  flushed  face  bending  over  her,  marking 
the  heightened  color,  the  visible  embarrassment.  She 
sprang  erect,  her  quick  glance  through  the  window 
revealing  the  figure  of  the  engineer  striding  swiftly 
toward  them. 

"  Oh,  si,  senorita ;  dat  iss  all  right.  I  go  see  Mike  ; 
he  more  fun  as  dose  vat  make  lofe." 

There  was  a  flutter  of  skirts  and  sudden  vanishment, 
even  as  Miss  Norvell's  ears  caught  the  sound  of  a  low 
rap  on  the  outer  door.  She  stood  breathing  heavily, 
her  hands  clasped  upon  her  breast,  until  the  knock  had 
been  repeated  twice.  Her  voice  utterly  failing  her,  she 
pressed  the  latch,  stepping  backward  to  permit  his 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

entrance.  The  first  swift,  inquiring  glance  into  his 
face  frightened  her  into  an  impulsive  explanation. 

"  I  was  afraid  I  arrived  here  too  late  to  be  of  any 
service.  It  seems,  however,  you  did  not  even  need 
me." 

He  grasped  the  hand  which,  half  unconsciously,  she 
had  extended  toward  him  ;  he  was  startled  by  its  unre 
sponsive  coldness,  striving  vainly  to  perceive  the  truth 
hidden  away  beneath  her  lowered  lids. 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  altogether  understand,"  he  returned 
gravely.  "  They  merely  said  that  you  were  here 
with  a  message  of  warning  for  me.  I  knew  that  much 
only  a  moment  ago.  I  cannot  even  guess  the  purport 
of  your  message,  yet  I  thank  you  for  a  very  real  sacri 
fice  for  my  sake." 

"  Oh,  no ;  truly  it  was  nothing,"  the  excitement 
bewildering  her.  "  It  was  no  more  than  I  would  have 
done  for  any  friend;  no  one  could  have  done  less." 

"  You,  at  least,  confess  friendship  ?  " 

"Have  I  ever  denied  it?"  almost  indignantly,  and 
looking  directly  at  him  for  the  first  time.  "  Whatever 
else  I  may  seem,  I  can  certainly  claim  loyalty  to  those 
who  trust  me.  I  wear  no  mask  off  the  stage." 

Even  as  she  spoke  the  hasty  words  she  seemed  to 
realize  their  full  import,  to  read  his  doubt  of  their 
truth  revealed  within  his  eyes. 

"Then,"  he  said  slowly,  weighing  each  word  as 
though  life  depended  on  the  proper  choice,  "there  is 
nothing  being  concealed  from  me?  Nothing  between 
you  and  this  Farnham  beyond  what  I  already  know? " 

She  stood  clinging  to  the  door,  with  colorless  cheeks 
[212] 


THE    CONFESSION 

and  parted  lips,  her  form  quivering.  This  was  when 
she  had  intended  to  speak  in  all  bravery,  to  pour  forth 
the  whole  miserable  story,  trusting  to  this  man  for 
mercy.  But,  O  God,  she  could  not ;  the  words 
choked  in  her  throat,  the  very  breath  seemed  to 
strangle  her. 

"That  —  that  is  something  different,"  she  managed 
to  gasp  desperately.  "It  —  it  belongs  to  the  past;  it 
cannot  be  helped  now." 

"  Yet  you  came  here  to  warn  me  against  him  ? " 

"Yes." 

''  How  did  you  chance  to  learn  that  my  life  was 
threatened?" 

She  uplifted  her  eyes  to  his  for  just  one  instant,  her 
face  like  marble. 

"  He  told  me." 

"What?  Farnham  himself?  You  have  been  with 
him?" 

She  bowed,  a  half-stifled  sob  shaking  her  body, 
which  at  any  other  time  would  have  caused  him  to 
pause  in  sympathy.  Now  it  was  merely  a  new  spur 
to  his  awakened  suspicion.  He  had  no  thought  of 
sparing  her. 

"  Where  ?     Did  he  call  upon  you  at  the  hotel  ?  " 

She  threw  back  her  shoulders  in  indignation  at  his 
tone  of  censure. 

"  I  met  him,  after  the  performance,  in  a  private  box 
at  the  Gayety,  last  evening,"  she  replied  more  calmly. 
"  He  sent  for  me,  and  I  was  alone  with  him  for  half 
an  hour." 

Winston     stood     motionless,     almost     breathless, 


BETH    NORVELL 

looking  directly  into  the  girl's  face.  He  durst  not  speak 
the  words  of  rebuke  trembling  upon  his  lips.  He 
felt  that  the  slightest  mistake  now  would  never  be 
forgiven.  There  was  a  mystery  here  unsolved;  in 
some  way  he  failed  to  understand  her,  to  appreciate 
her  motives.  In  the  brief  pause  Beth  Norvell  came 
back  to  partial  self-control,  to  a  realization  of  what  this 
man  must  think  of  her.  With  a  gesture  almost  plead 
ing  she  softly  touched  his  sleeve. 

"  Mr.  Winston,  I  truly  wish  you  to  believe  me,  to 
believe  in  me,"  she  began,  her  low  voice  vibrating 
with  emotion.  "  God  alone  knows  how  deeply  I 
appreciate  your  friendship,  how  greatly  I  desire  to 
retain  it  unsullied.  Perhaps  I  have  not  done  right; 
it  is  not  always  easy,  perhaps  not  always  possible.  I 
may  have  been  mistaken  in  my  conception  of  duty,  yet 
have  tried  to  do  what  seemed  best.  There  is  that  in 
the  pages  of  my  past  life  which  I  intended  to  tell  you 
fully  and  frankly  before  our  final  parting.  I  thought 
when  I  came  here  I  had  sufficient  courage  to  relate  it 
to  you  to-day,  but  I  cannot  —  I  cannot." 

"At  least  answer  me  one  question  without  equivo 
cation  —  do  you  love  that  man  ?  "  He  must  ask  that, 
know  that;  all  else  could  wait. 

An  instant  she  stood  before  him  motionless,  a  slight 
color  creeping  back  into  her  cheeks  under  his  intense 
scrutiny.  Then  she  uplifted  her  eyes  frankly  to  his 
own,  and  he  looked  down  into  their  revealed  depth. 

"I  do  not,"  the  low  voice  hard  with  decision.  "I 
despise  him." 

"  Have  you  ever  loved  him?  " 


TH  E    CONFESSION 

"  As  God  is  my  witness  —  no." 

There  was  no  possible  disbelieving  her ;  the  absolute 
truthfulness  of  that  utterance  was  evidenced  by  trem 
bling  lips,  by  the  upturned  face.  Winston  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  relief,  his  contracted  brows  straightening. 
For  one  hesitating  moment  he  remained  speechless, 
struggling  for  self-control.  Merciful  Heavens  !  would 
he  ever  understand  this  woman  ?  Would  he  ever 
fathom  her  full  nature  ?  ever  rend  the  false  from  the 
true  ?  The  deepening,  baffling  mystery  served  merely 
to  stimulate  ambition,  to  strengthen  his  unwavering 
purpose.  He  possessed  the  instinct  that  assured  him 
she  cared ;  it  was  for  his  sake  that  she  had  braved  the 
night  and  Farnham's  displeasure.  What,  then,  was 
it  that  was  holding  them  apart  ?  What  was  the  nature 
of  this  barrier  beyond  all  surmounting?  The  man  in 
him  rebelled  at  having  so  spectral  an  adversary ;  he 
longed  to  fight  it  out  in  the  open,  to  grapple  with  flesh 
and  blood.  In  spite  of  promise,  his  heart  found  words 
of  protest. 

"  Beth,  please  tell  me  what  all  this  means,"  he 
pleaded  simply,  his  hands  outstretched  toward  her. 
"  Tell  me,  because  I  love  you  ;  tell  me,  because  I  desire 
to  help  you.  It  is  true  we  have  not  known  each  other 
long;  yet,  surely,  the  time  and  opportunity  have  been 
sufficient  for  each  to  learn  much  regarding  the  charac 
ter  of  the  other.  You  trust  me,  you  believe  in  my 
word ;  down  in  the  secret  depths  of  your  heart  you  are 
beginning  to  love  me.  I  believe  that,  little  girl;  I 
believe  that,  even  while  your  lips  deny  its  truth.  It  is 
the  instinct  of  love  which  teaches  me,  for  I  love  you. 


BETH    NORVELL 

I  may  not  know  your  name,  the  story  of  your  life,  who 
or  what  you  are,  but  I  love  you,  Beth  Norvell,  with 
the  life-love  of  a  man.  What  is  it,  then,  between  us  ? 
What  is  it?  God  help  me!  I  could  battle  against 
realities,  but  not  against  ghosts.  Do  you  suppose  I 
cannot  forgive,  cannot  excuse,  cannot  blot  out  a  past 
mistake  ?  Do  you  imagine  my  love  so  poor  a  thing  as 
that  ?  Do  not  wrong  me  so.  I  am  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  comprehend  fully  those  temptations  which  come 
to  all  of  us.  I  can  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead,  sat 
isfied  with  the  present  and  the  future.  Only  tell  me  the 
truth,  the  naked  truth,  and  let  me  combat  in  the  open 
against  whatever  it  is  that  stands  between  us.  Beth, 
Beth,  this  is  life  or  death  to  me ! " 

She  stood  staring  at  him,  her  face  gone  haggard, 
her  eyes  full  of  misery.  Suddenly  she  sank  upon  her 
knees  beside  a  chair,  and,  with  a  moan,  buried  her 
countenance  within  her  hands. 

"  Beth,"  he  asked,  daring  to  touch  her  trembling 
hair,  "  have  I  hurt  you  ?  Have  I  done  wrong  to  speak 
thus  ? " 

A  single  sob  shook  the  slender,  bowed  figure,  the 
face  still  hidden. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered  faintly,  "you  have  hurt  me; 
you  have  done  wrong." 

"  But  why  ? "  he  insisted.  "  Is  not  my  love 
worthy  ? " 

She  lifted  her  head  then,  resting  one  hand  against 
the  dishevelled  hair,  her  eyes  misty  from  tears. 

"  Worthy  ?  O  God,  yes  !  but  so  useless  ;  so  utterly 
without  power." 


TH  E    CONFESSION 

Winston  strode  to  the  window  and  back  again,  his 
hands  clenched,  the  veins  showing  across  his  forehead. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  beside  her,  clasp 
ing  her  one  disengaged  hand  within  both  his  own. 

"  Beth,  I  refuse  to  believe,"  he  exclaimed  firmly. 
"  Love  is  never  useless,  never  without  power,  either  in 
this  world  or  the  next.  Tell  me,  then,  once  for  all 
here  before  God,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

She  swept  the  clinging  tears  from  her  lashes,  the 
soft  clasp  of  her  fingers  upon  his  hand  unconsciously 
tightening. 

"You  may  read  an  answer  within  my  face,"  she 
replied,  slowly.  "  It  must  be  that  my  eyes  tell  the 
truth,  although  I  cannot  speak  it  with  my  lips.' 

"  Cannot  ?     In  God's  name,  why  ? " 

She  choked,  yet  the  voice  did  not  wholly  fail  her. 

"  Because  I  have  no  right.  I  —  I  am  the  wife  of 
another." 

The  head  drooped  lower,  the  hair  shadowing  the 
face,  and  Winston,  his  lips  set  and  white,  stared  at  her, 
scarcely  comprehending.  A  moment  later  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  one  hand  pressed  across  his  eyes,  slowly 
grasping  the  full  measure  of  her  confession. 

"The  wife  of  another!"  he  burst  forth,  his  voice 
shaking.  "  Great  God  !  You  ?  What  other  ?  Farn- 
ham  ? " 

The  bowed  head  sank  yet  lower,  as  though  in  mute 
answer,  and  his  ears  caught  the  echo  of  a  single 
muffled  sob.  Suddenly  she  glanced  up  at  him,  and 
then  rose  unsteadily  to  her  feet  clinging  to  the  back 
of  the  chair  for  support. 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Mr.  Winston,"  her  voice  strengthening  with  each 
word  spoken,  "  it  hurts  me  to  realize  that  you  feel  so 
deeply.  I  —  I  wish  I  might  bear  the  burden  of  this 
mistake  all  alone.  But  I  cannot  stand  your  contempt, 
or  have  you  believe  me  wholly  heartless,  altogether 
unworthy.  We  —  we  must  part,  now  and  for 
ever  ;  there  is  no  other  honorable  way.  I  tried  so 
hard  to  compel  you  to  leave  me  before;  I  accepted 
that  engagement  at  the  Gayety,  trusting  such  an  act 
would  disgust  you  with  me.  I  am  not  to  blame  for 
this;  truly,  I  am  not  —  no  woman  could  have  fought 
against  Fate  more  faithfully;  only  —  only  I  couldn't 
find  sufficient  courage  to  confess  to  you  the  whole 
truth.  Perhaps  I  might  have  done  so  at  first ;  but  it 
was  too  late  before  I  learned  the  necessity,  and  then 
my  heart  failed  me.  There  was  another  reason  I  need 
not  mention  now,  why  I  hesitated,  why  such  a  course 
became  doubly  hard.  But  I  am  going  to  tell  you  it 
all  now,  for  —  for  I  wish  you  to  go  away  at  least 
respecting  my  womanhood." 

He  made  no  reply,  no  comment,  and  the  girl 
dropped  her  questioning  eyes  to  the  floor. 

"You  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  loved  him,"  she  con 
tinued,  speaking  more  slowly,  "and  I  told  you  no. 
That  was  the  truth  as  I  realize  it  now,  although  there 
was  a  time  when  the  man  fascinated,  bewildered  me,  as 
I  imagine  the  snake  fascinates  a  bird.  I  have  learned 
since  something  of  what  love  truly  is,  and  can  com 
prehend  that  my  earlier  feeling  toward  him  was  coun 
terfeit,  a  mere  bit  of  dross.  Be  patient,  please,  while 
I  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  It  —  it  is  a  hard  task; 


THE    CONFESSION 

yet,  perhaps,  you  may  think  better  of  me  from  a 
knowledge  of  the  whole  truth.  I  am  a  Chicago  girl. 
There  are  reasons  why  I  shall  not  mention  my  family 
name,  and  it  is  unnecessary;  but  my  parents  are  wealthy 
and  of  good  position.  All  my  earlier  education  was 
acquired  through  private  tutors;  so  that  beyond  my 
little,  narrow  circle  of  a  world — fashionable  andrestricted 
—  all  of  real  life  remained  unknown,  unexplored,  until 
the  necessity  for  a  wider  development  caused  my  being 
sent  to  a  well-known  boarding-school  for  girls  in  the 
East.  I  think  now  the  choice  made  was  unfortunate. 
The  school  being  situated  close  to  a  large  city,  and  the 
discipline  extremely  lax,  temptation  which  I  was  not  in 
any  way  fitted  to  resist  surrounded  me  from  the  day  of 
entrance.  In  a  fashionable  drawing-room,  in  the  home 
of  my  mother's  friends,  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Farnham." 

She  paused  with  the  mention  of  his  name,  as  though 
its  utterance  pained  her,  yet  almost  immediately 
resumed  her  story,  not  even  glancing  up  at  her  listener. 

"  I  was  at  an  age  to  be  easily  flattered  by  the  admira 
tion  of  a  man  of  mature  years.  He  was  considerably 
older  than  I,  always  well  dressed,  versed  in  social 
forms,  liberal  with  money,  exhibiting  a  certain  dashing 
recklessness  which  proved  most  attractive  to  all  the 
girls  I  knew.  Indeed,  I  think  it  was  largely  because 
of  their  envy  that  I  was  first  led  to  accept  his  atten 
tions.  However,  I  was  very  young,  utterly  inexperi 
enced,  while  he  was  thoroughly  versed  in  every  trick 
by  which  to  interest  one  of  my  nature.  He  claimed 
to  be  a  successful  dramatist  and  author,  thus  adding 

[219] 


BETH    NORVELL 

materially  to  my  conception  of  his  character  and  capa 
bility.  Little  by  little  the  man  succeeded  in  weaving 
about  me  the  web  of  his  fascination,  until  I  was  ready 
for  any  sacrifice  he  might  propose.  Naturally  ardent, 
easily  impressed  by  outward  appearances,  assured  as  to 
my  own  and  his  social  position,  ignorant  of  the  wiles 
of  the  world,  I  was  an  easy  victim.  Somewhere  he 
had  formed  the  acquaintance  of  my  brother,  which  fact 
merely  increased  my  confidence  in  him.  I  need  not 
dwell  in  detail  upon  what  followed  —  the  advice  of 
romantic  girls,  the  false  counsel  of  a  favorite  teacher, 
the  specious  lies  and  explanations  accounting  for  the 
necessity  for  secrecy,  the  fervent  pleadings,  the  pro 
testations,  the  continual  urging,  that  finally  conquered 
my  earlier  resolves.  I  yielded  before  the  strain,  the 
awakened  imagination  of  a  girl  of  sixteen  seeing  noth 
ing  in  the  rose-tinted  future  except  happiness.  We 
were  married  in  Christ  Church,  Boston,  two  of  my 
classmates  witnessing  the  ceremony.  Three  months 
later  I  awoke  fully  from  dreaming,  and  faced  the 
darkness." 

She  leaned  against  the  wall,  her  face,  half  hidden, 
pressed  against  her  arm.  Speaking  no  word  of  inter 
ruption,  Winston  clasped  her  hand  and  waited,  his  gray 
eyes  moist. 

"  He  was  a  professional  gambler,  a  brute,  a  cruel, 
cold-blooded  coward,"  the  words  dropping  from  her 
lips  as  though  they  burned  in  utterance.  "  Only  at 
the  very  first  did  he  make  any  effort  to  disguise  his 
nature,  or  conceal  the  object  of  his  marriage.  He 
endeavored  to  wring  money  from  my  people,  and  — 

[220] 


THE     CONFESSION 

and  struck  me  when  I  refused  him  aid.  He  failed 
because  I  blocked  him;  tried  blackmail  and  failed 
again,  although  I  saved  him  from  exposure.  If  he  had 
ever  cared  for  me,  by  this  time  his  love  had  changed  to 
dislike  or  indifference.  He  left  me  for  weeks  at  a 
time,  often  alone  and  in  poverty.  My  father  sought 
in  vain  to  get  me  away  from  him,  but  —  but  I  was  too 
proud  to  confess  the  truth.  I  should  have  been  wel 
come  at  home,  without  him ;  but  I  refused  to  go.  I 
had  made  my  own  choice,  had  committed  the  mistake, 
had  done  the  wrong;  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
flee  from  the  result.  I  burrowed  in  the  slums  where 
he  took  me,  hiding  from  all  who  sought  me  out.  Yet 
I  lived  in  an  earthly  hell,  my  dream  of  love  dispelled, 
the  despair  of  life  constantly  deepening.  I  no  longer 
cared  for  the  man  —  I  despised  him,  shrank  from  his 
presence ;  yet  something  more  potent  than  pride  kept 
me  loyal.  I  believed  then,  I  believe  now,  in  the 
sacredness  of  marriage ;  it  was  the  teaching  of  my 
church,  of  my  home ;  it  had  become  part  of  my  very 
soul.  To  me  that  formal  church  wedding  typified  the 
solemnity  of  religion ;  I  durst  not  prove  untrue  to 
vows  thus  taken ;  divorce  was  a  thought  impossible." 

"And  now?"  he  interrupted  gently. 

She  lifted  her  head,  with  one  swift  glance  upward. 

"You  will  think  me  wrong,  quixotic,  unnatural,"  she 
acknowledged  soberly.  "Yet  I  am  not  absolved,  not 
free  —  this  man  remains  my  husband,  wedded  to 
me  by  the  authority  of  the  church.  I  —  I  must  bear 
the  burden  of  my  vows ;  not  even  love  would  long 
compensate  for  unfaithfulness  in  the  sight  of  God." 

[221] 


BETH    NORVELL 

In  the  intense  silence  they  could  hear  each  other's 
strained  breathing  and  the  soft  notes  of  a  bird  singing 
gleefully  without.  Winston,  his  lips  compressed,  his 
eyes  stern  with  repressed  feeling,  neither  moved  nor 
spoke.  Beth  Norvell's  head  sank  slowly  back  upon 
her  arm. 

"  He  took  me  with  him  from  city  to  city,"  she  went 
on  wearily,  as  though  unconsciously  speaking  to  her 
self,  "  staying,  I  think,  in  each  as  long  as  the  police 
would  permit.  He  was  seldom  with  me,  seldom  gave 
me  money.  We  did  not  quarrel,  for  I  refused  to  be 
drawn  into  any  exchange  of  words.  He  never  struck 
me  excepting  twice,  but  there  are  other  ways  of  hurting 
a  woman,  and  he  knew  them  all.  I  was  hungry  at  times 
and  ill  clad.  I  was  driven  to  provide  for  myself,  and 
worked  in  factories  and  stores.  Whenever  he  knew  I 
had  money  he  took  it.  Money  was  always  the  cause 
of  controversy  between  us.  It  was  his  god,  not  to 
hoard  up,  but  to  spend  upon  himself.  My  steady 
refusal  to  permit  his  bleeding  my  father  enraged  him ; 
it  was  at  such  times  he  lost  all  control,  and  —  and 
struck  me.  God  !  I  could  have  killed  him  !  There  were 
times  when  I  could,  when  I  wonder  I  did  not.  Yet 
in  calm  deliberation  I  durst  not  break  my  vows.  Three 
years  ago  he  left  me  in  Denver  without  a  word,  with 
out  a  suggestion  that  the  desertion  was  final.  We  had 
just  reached  there,  and  I  had  nothing.  Friends  of  my 
family  lived  there,  but  I  could  not  seek  them  for  help. 
I  actually  suffered,  until  finally  I  found  employment  in  a 
large  department  store.  I  expected  he  would  return, 
and  kept  my  rooms  where  he  left  me.  I  wrote  home 

[222] 


THE    CONFESSION 

twice,  cheerful  letters,  saying  nothing  to  lower  him  in 
the  estimation  of  my  people,  yet  concealing  my  address 
for  fear  they  might  seek  me  out.  Then  there  unex 
pectedly  came  to  me  an  opportunity  to  go  out  with 
Albrecht,  and  I  accepted  it  most  thankfully.  It  gave 
me  a  chance  to  think  of  other  things,  to  work  hard,  to 
forget  myself  in  a  growing  ambition.  I  had  already 
thrown  off  the  old,  and  was  laying  ever  firmer  hands 
upon  the  new,  when  you  came  into  my  life,  and  then 
he  came  back  also.  It  is  such  a  small  world,  such  a 
little  world,  all  shadowed  and  full  of  heartaches !  " 

In  the  silence  she  glanced  aside  at  him,  her  eyes 
clear,  her  hair  held  back  by  one  hand. 

"  Please  do  not  look  at  me  like  that,"  she  pleaded. 
"Surely,  you  cannot  blame  me;  you  must  forgive." 

"There  is  nothing  to  blame,  or  forgive,  Beth; 
apparently  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  say,  nothing  for 
me  to  do." 

She  swayed  slowly  toward  him,  resting  one  hand 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"  But  am  I  right  ?  Won't  you  tell  me  if  I  am 
right?" 

He  stood  hesitating  for  a  moment,  looking  down 
upon  that  upturned,  questioning  face,  his  gray  eyes 
filled  with  a  loyalty  that  caused  her  heart  to  throb 
wildly. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Beth,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  do  not 
know ;  I  cannot  be  your  conscience.  I  must  go  out 
where  I  can  be  alone  and  think ;  but  never  will  I  come 
between  you  and  your  God." 

[223] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  POINT  OF  VIEW 

SHE  sank  back  upon  the  chair,  her  face  completely 
hidden  within  her  arms.  Winston,  his  hand 
already  grasping  the  latch  of  the  door,  paused 
and  glanced  around  at  her,  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feel 
ing  leaving  him  unnerved  and  purposeless.  He  had 
been  possessed  by  but  one  thought,  a  savage  determi 
nation  to  seek  out  Farnham  and  kill  him.  The  brute 
was  no  more  than  a  mad  dog  who  had  bitten  one  he 
loved ;  he  was  unworthy  of  mercy.  But  now,  in  a 
revealing  burst  of  light,  he  realized  the  utter  futility  of 
such  an  act.  Coward,  brutal  as  the  man  unquestion 
ably  was,  he  yet  remained  her  husband,  bound  to  her 
by  ties  she  held  indissoluble.  Any  vengeful  blow 
which  should  make  her  a  widow  would  as  certainly 
separate  the  slayer  from  her  forever.  Unavoidably 
though  it  might  occur,  the  act  was  one  never  to  be  for 
given  by  Beth  Norvell,  never  to  be  blotted  from  her 
remembrance.  Winston  appreciated  this  as  though  a 
sudden  flash-light  had  been  turned  upon  his  soul.  He 
had  looked  down  into  her  secret  heart,  he  had  had 
opened  before  him  the  religious  depth  of  her  nature  — 
this  bright-faced,  brown-eyed  woman  would  do  what 
was  right  although  she  walked  a  pathway  of  self-deny 
ing  agony.  Never  once  did  he  doubt  this  truth,  and 
the  knowledge  gripped  him  with  fingers  of  steel.  Even 

[224] 


THE    POINT    OF    VIEW 

as  he  stood  there,  looking  back  upon  her  quivering 
figure,  it  was  no  longer  hate  of  Farnham  which  con 
trolled;  it  was  love  for  her.  He  took  a  step  toward 
her,  hesitant,  uncertain,  his  heart  a-throb  with  sym 
pathy  ;  yet  what  could  he  say  ?  What  could  he  do  ? 
Utterly  helpless  to  comfort,  unable  to  even  suggest  a 
way  out,  he  drew  back  silently,  closed  the  door  behind 
him,  and  shut  her  in.  He  felt  one  clear,  unalterable 
conviction  —  under  God,  it  should  not  be  for  long. 

He  stood  there  in  the  brilliant  sunlight,  bareheaded 
still,  looking  dreamily  off  across  the  wide  reach  of  the 
canyon.  How  peaceful,  how  sublimely  beautiful,  it  all 
appeared;  how  delicately  the  tints  of  those  distant 
trees  blended  and  harmonized  with  the  brown  rocks 
beyond !  The  broad,  spreading  picture  slowly  im 
pressed  itself  upon  his  brain,  effacing  and  taking  the 
place  of  personal  animosity.  In  so  fair  a  world  Hope 
is  ever  a  returning  angel  with  healing  in  his  wings ; 
and  Winston's  face  brightened,  the  black  frown  desert 
ing  his  forehead,  all  sternness  gone  from  his  eyes. 
There  surely  must  be  a  way  somewhere,  and  he  would 
discover  it ;  only  the  weakling  and  the  coward  can  sit 
down  in  despair.  Out  of  the  prevailing  silence 
he  suddenly  distinguished  voices  at  hand,  and  the 
sound  awoke  him  to  partial  interest.  Just  before  the 
door  where  he  stood  a  thick  growth  of  bushes 
obstructed  the  view.  The  voices  he  heard  indistinctly 
came  from  beyond,  and  he  stepped  cautiously  forward, 
peering  in  curiosity  between  the  parted  branches. 

It  was  a  narrow  section  of  the  ledge,  hemmed  in  by 
walls  of  rock  and  thinly  carpeted  with  grass,  a  small 

[225] 


BETH    NORVELL 

fire  burning  near  its  centre.  There  was  an  appetizing 
smell  of  cookery  in  the  air,  and  three  figures  were 
plainly  discernible.  The  old  miner,  Mike,  sat  next 
the  embers,  a  sizzling  frying-pan  not  far  away,  his 
black  pipe  in  one  oratorically  uplifted  hand,  a  tin  plate 
in  his  lap,  his  grouchy,  seamed  old  face  screwed  up 
into  argumentative  ugliness,  his  angry  eyes  glaring  at 
the  Swede  opposite,  who  was  loungingly  propped 
against  a  convenient  stone.  The  latter  looked  a  huge, 
ungainly,  raw-boned  fellow,  possessing  a  red  and  white 
complexion,  with  a  perfect  shock  of  blond  hair  wholly 
unaccustomed  to  the  ministrations  of  a  comb.  He 
had  a  long,  peculiarly  solemn  face,  rendered  yet  more 
lugubrious  by  unwinking  blue  eyes  and  a  drooping 
moustache  of  straw  color.  Altogether,  he  composed  a 
picture  of  unutterable  woe,  his  wide  mouth  drawn 
mournfully  down  at  the  corners,  his  forehead  wrinkled 
in  perplexity.  Somewhat  to  the  right  of  these  two 
more  central  figures,  the  young  Mexican  girl  contrib 
uted  a  touch  of  brightness,  lolling  against  the  bank  in 
graceful  relaxation,  her  black  eyes  aglow  with  scarcely 
repressed  merriment.  However  the  existing  contro 
versy  may  have  originated,  it  had  already  attained  a 
stage  for  the  display  of  considerable  temper. 

"  Now,  ye  see  here,  Swanska,"  growled  the  thor 
oughly  aroused  Irishman  vehemently.  "  It 's  'bout 
enough  Oi  've  heard  from  ye  on  that  now.  Thar  's 
r'ason  in  all  things,  Oi  'm  tould,  but  Oi  don't  clarely 
moind  iver  havin'  met  any  in  a  Swade,  bedad.  Oi  say 
ye  're  nothin'  betther  than  a  dommed  foreigner,  wid  no 
business  in  this  counthry  at  all,  at  all,  takin'  the  bread 

[226] 


THE    POINT    OF    VIEW 

out  o'  the  mouths  of  honest  min.  Look  at  the 
Oirish,  now ;  they  was  here  from  the  very  beginnin' ; 
they  Ve  fought,  bled,  an'  died  for  the  counthry,  an' 
the  loikes  o'  ye  comes  in  an'  takes  their  jobs.  Be 
hivins,  it 's  enough  to  rile  the  blood.  What 's  the  name 
of  ye,  annyhow? " 

"Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson." 

"  Huh  !  Well,  it 's  little  the  loikes  o'  ye  iver  railly 
knows  about  names,  Oi  'm  thinkin'.  They  tell  me  ye 
don't  have  no  proper,  dacent  names  of  yer  own  over 
in  Sweden,  —  wherever  the  divil  that  is,  I  dunno, — 
but  jist  picks  up  annything  handy  for  to  dhraw  pay  on." 

"  It  ban't  true." 

"It's  a  loiar  ye  are!  Bad  cess  to  ye,  ain't  Oi 
had  to  be  bunk-mate  wid  some  o'  ye  dhirty  foreigners 
afore  now  ?  Ye  're  sons,  the  whole  kit  and  caboodle  o' 
ye — Nelsons,  an'  Olesons,  an'  Swansons,  an'  Ander 
sons.  Blissed  Mary !  an'  ye  call  them  things  names  ? 
If  ye  have  anny  other  cognomen,  it 's  somethin'  ye  stole 
from  some  Christian  all  unbeknownst  to  him,  Holy 
Mother !  but  ye  ought  to  be  'shamed  to  be  a  Swade, 
ye  miserable,  slab-sided  haythen." 

"My  name  ban  Swanson;  it  ban  all  right,  hey?" 

"  Swanson  !  Swanson  !  Oh,  ye  poor  benighted, 
ignorant  foreigner!"  and  Mike  straightened  up,  slap 
ping  his  chest  proudly.  "  Jist  ye  look  at  me,  now ! 
Oi  'm  an  O'Brien,  do  ye  moind  that?  An  O'Brien! 
Mother  o'  God  !  we  was  O'Briens  whin  the  Ark  first 
landed;  we  was  O'Briens  whin  yer  ancestors  —  if  iver 
ye  had  anny  —  was  wigglin'  pollywogs  pokin'  in  the 
mud.  We  was  kings  in  ould  Oireland,  begorry,  whin 


BETH    NORVELL 

ye  was  a  mollusk,  or  maybe  a  poi-faced  baboon 
swingin'  by  the  tail.  The  gall  of  the  loikes  of  ye  to 
call  yerselves  min,  and  dhraw  pay  wid  that  sort  of 
thing  ferninst  ye  for  a  name  !  Oi  '11  bet  ye  niver  had 
no  gran'father ;  ye  're  nothin'  but  a  it,  a  son  of  a  say- 
cook,  be  the  powers  !  An'  ye  come  over  here  to  work 
for  a  thafe  —  a  dhirty,  low-down  thafe.  Do  ye  moind 
that,  yer  lanthern-jawed  spalpeen  ?  What  was  it  yer 
did  over  beyant? " 

"Ay  ban  shovel-man  fer  Meester  Burke  —  hard 
vork." 

"  Ye  don't  look  that  intilligent  from  here.  Work  !  " 
with  a  snort,  and  waving  his  pipe  in  the  air.  "  Work, 
is  it  ?  Sure,  an'  it 's  all  the  loikes  of  ye  are  iver  good 
for.  It 's  not  brains  ye  have  at  all,  or  ye  'd  take  it  a 
bit  aisier.  Oi  had  a  haythen  Swade  foreman  oncet 
over  at  the  { Last  Chance.'  God  forgive  me  for 
workin'  undher  the  loikes  of  him.  Sure  he  near  worked 
me  to  death,  he  did  that,  the  ignorant  furriner.  Work  ! 
why,  Oi  'm  dommed  if  a  green  Swade  did  n't  fall  the 
full  length  of  the  shaft  one  day,  an'  whin  we  wint  over 
to  pick  him  up,  what  was  it  ye  think  the  poor  hay- 
then  said?  He  opened  his  oies  an'  asked,  'Is  the 
boss  mad  ? '  afeared  he  'd  lose  his  job  !  An'  so  ye  was 
workin'  for  a  thafe,  was  ye  ?  An'  what  for  ?  " 

"  Two  tollar  saxty  cint." 

Mike  leaped  to  his  feet  as  though  a  spring  had  sud 
denly  uncoiled  beneath  him,  waving  his  arms  in  wild 
excitement,  and  dancing  about  on  his  short  legs. 

"  Two  dollars  an'  sixty  cints !  Did  ye  hear  that, 
now  ?  For  the  love  of  Hivin !  an'  the  union  wages 


THE    POINT    OF    VIEW 

three  sixty !  Ye  're  a  dommed  scab,  an'  it 's  meself 
that'll  wallup  ye  just  for  luck.  It's  crazy  Oi  am  to 
do  the  job.  What  wud  the  loikes  of  ye  work  for 
Misther  Hicks  for?" 

Swanson's  impassive  face  remained  imperturbable ;  he 
stroked  the  moustaches  dangling  over  the  corners  of  his 
dejected  mouth. 

"  Two  tollar  saxty  cint." 

Mike  glared  at  him,  and  then  at  the  girl,  his  own 
lips  puckering. 

"  Bedad,  Oi  belave  the  poor  cr'ater  do  n't  know 
anny  betther.  Shure,  't  is  not  for  an  O'Brien  to  be 
wastin'  his  toime  thryin'  to  tache  the  loikes  of  him  the 
great  sacrets  of  thrade.  It  wud  be  castin'  pearls  afore 
swine,  as  Father  Kinny  says.  Did  iver  ye  hear  tell  of 
the  Boible,  now?  " 

"  Ay  ban  Lutheran." 

"  An'  what 's  that  ?  It 's  a  Dimocrat  Oi  am,  an' 
dom  the  O'Brien  that 's  annything  else.  But  Oi  niver 
knew  thar  was  anny  of  thim  other  things  hereabout. 
It 's  no  prohibitioner  ye  are,  annyhow,  fer  that  stuff  in 
yer  bottle  wud  cook  a  snake.  Sufferin'  ages  !  but  it 
had  an  edge  to  it  that  wud  sharpen  a  saw.  What  do 
ye  think  of  ther  blatherin'  baste  annyhow,  seeiiorita  ? " 

The  little  Mexican  gave  sudden  vent  to  her  pent-up 
laughter,  clapping  her  hands  in  such  an  ecstasy  of 
delight  as  to  cause  the  unemotional  Swanson  to  open 
his  mild  blue  eyes  in  solemn  wonder. 

"  He  all  right,  I  tink,"  she  exclaimed  eagerly. 
"  He  no  so  mooch  fool  as  you  tink  him  —  no,  no. 
See,  senor,  he  busy  eat  all  de  time  dat  you  talk ;  he 

[229] 


BETH    NORVELL 

has  de  meal,  you  has  de  fin'  air.  Vich  ees  de  bettair,  de 
air  or  de  meat,  senor?  Bueno,  I  tink  de  laugh  vas 
vid  him." 

Mr.  O'Brien,  his  attention  thus  suddenly  recalled  to 
practical  affairs,  gazed  into  the  emptied  frying-pan,  a 
decided  expression  of  bewildered  despair  upon  his 
wizened  face.  For  the  moment  even  speech  failed  him 
as  he  confronted  that  scene  of  total  devastation.  Then 
he  dashed  forward  to  face  the  victim  of  his  righteous 
wrath. 

"Ye  dom  Swade,  ye!"  He  shook  a  dirty  fist 
beneath  the  other's  nose.  "  Shmell  o'  that !  It 's  now 
Oi  know  ye  're  a  thafe,  a  low-down  haythen  thafe. 
What  are  ye  sittin'  thar  for,  grinnin'  at  yer  betthers?" 

"  Two  tollar  saxty  cint." 

The  startled  Irishman  stared  at  him  with  mouth  wide 
open. 

"  An'  begorry,  did  ye  hear  that,  seenorita  ?  For  the 
love  of  Hivin,  it 's  only  a  poll-parrot  sittin'  there  fer- 
ninst  us,  barrin'  the  appetite  of  him.  Saints  aloive ! 
but  Oi  'd  love  to  paste  the  crature  av  it  was  n't  a  mor 
tal  sin  to  bate  a  dumb  baste.  An'  he  's  a  Lutheran ! 
God  be  marciful  an'  keep  me  from  iver  ketchin'  that 
same  dis'ase,  av  it  wud  lave  me  loike  this  wan.  What 's 
that  ?  What  was  it  the  haythen  said  then,  seenorita  ? " 

"  Not  von  vord,  senor ;  he  only  vink  von  eye  like 
maybe  he  flirt  vid  me." 

"The  Swade  did  that!  Holy  Mother!  an'  wid  an 
O'Brien  here  to  take  the  part  of  any  dacent  gurl. 
Wait  till  I  strip  the  coat  off  me.  It 's  an  O'Brien 
that  '11  tache  him  how  to  trate  a  lady.  Say,  Swanson, 


THE    POINT    OF    VIEW 

ye  son  of  a  gun,  ye  son  of  a  say-cook,  ye  son 

Sure,  Oi  'd  loike  to  tell  ye  what  ye  are  av  it  was  n't  for 
the  prisince  of  the  seenorita.  It 's  Michael  O'Brien 
who  's  about  to  paste  ye  in  the  oye  fer  forgittin'  yer 
manners,  an'  growin'  too  gay  in  good  company. 
Whoop  !  begorry,  it 's  the  grane  above  the  red  !  " 

There  was  a  dull  noise  of  a  heavily  struck  blow.  A 
pair  of  short  legs,  waving  frantically,  traversed  a  com 
plete  semicircle,  coming  down  with  a  crash  at  the  edge 
of  the  bushes.  Through  a  rapidly  swelling  and  badly 
damaged  optic  the  pessimistic  O'Brien  gazed  up  in 
dazed  bewilderment  at  the  man  already  astride  of  his 
prostrate  body.  It  was  a  regenerated  Norseman,  the 
fierce  battle-lust  of  the  Vikings  glowing  in  his  blue 
eyes.  With  fingers  like  steel  claws  he  gripped  the 
Irishman's  shirt  collar,  driving  his  head  back  against 
the  earth  with  every  mad  utterance. 

"Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson ! "  he  exploded  defiantly. 
"Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson  !  Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson  !  Ay 
ban  shovel-man  by  Meester  Burke !  Ay  ban  Lutheran  ! 
Ay  ban  work  two  tollar  saxty  cint !  You  hear  dose 
tings  ?  Tamn  the  Irish  —  Ay  show  you  ! " 

With  the  swift,  noiseless  motion  of  a  bird  Mer 
cedes  flitted  across  the  narrow  space,  forcing  her 
slender  figure  in  between  the  two  contestants,  her 
white  teeth  gleaming  merrily,  the  bright  sunshine 
shimmering  across  her  black  hair.  Like  two  stars 
her  great  eyes  flashed  up  imploringly  into  the  Swede's 
angry  face. 

"  No,  no,  senors  !  You  no  fight  like  de  dogs  vid  me 
here.  I  not  like  dat;  I  not  let  you.  See!  you  strike 


BETH    NORVELL 

him,  you  strike  me.  Dios  de  Dios  !  I  not  have  eet 
so  —  nevah." 

A  strong,  compelling  hand  fell  suddenly  on  Win 
ston's  shoulder,  and  he  glanced  about  into  the  grave, 
boyish  countenance  of  Stutter  Brown. 

"Th-thar's  quite  c-c-consid'able  of  a  c-crowd  comin' 
up  the  t-t-trail  t-ter  the  'Independence,'  an'  B-Bill 
wants  yer,"  he  announced,  his  calm  eyes  on  the  con 
troversy  being  waged  beyond  in  the  open.  "  Th-thar  '11 
be  somethin'  d-doin'  presently,  but  I  r-reckon  I  better 
s-s-straighten  out  t-this  yere  i-i-international  fracas 
first." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  GAME  OF  FOILS 

THE  grave-faced,  yet  good-natured  giant  pressed 
his  way  through  the  tangled  mass  of  obstructing 
bushes,  and  unceremoniously  proceeded  to  pro 
claim  peace.  His  methods  were  characteristic  of  one 
slow  of  speech,  yet  swift  of  action.  With  one  great 
hand  gripping  the  Swede,  he  suddenly  swung  that 
startled  individual  at  full  length  backward  into  the  still 
smouldering  embers  of  the  fire,  holding  the  gasping 
Mike  down  to  earth  with  foot  planted  heavily  upon 
his  chest.  It  was  over  in  an  instant,  Swanson  sputter 
ing  unintelligible  oaths  while  beating  sparks  from  his 
overalls,  the  Irishman  profanely  conscious  of  the  dam 
age  wrought  to  his  eye,  and  the  overwhelming  odds 
against  him.  Sefiorita  Mercedes  clapped  her  little 
hands  in  delight  at  the  spectacle,  her  steps  light  as 
those  of  the  dance,  the  girlish  joy  in  her  eyes  frank 
and  unreserved. 

"Ah,  de  Senor  Brown  —  bueno  !  Dey  vas  just  chil 
dren  to  you  even  ven  dey  fight,  hey  ?  It  vas  good  to 
see  such  tings  doin',  just  like  de  play." 

She  circled  swiftly  up  toward  him,  a  happy  bird  of 
gay,  fluttering  plumage,  pressing  her  fingers  almost 
caressingly  along  the  swelling  muscle  of  his  arm,  and 
gazing  with  earnest  admiration  up  into  his  face. 
Beneath  the  witching  spell  of  her  eyes  the  man's  cheeks 

033] 


BETH    NORVELL 

reddened.     He  took  the  way  of  savagery  out  of  unex 
pected  embarrassment. 

"  Th-that  's  enough,  now,  Swanson,"  he  commanded, 
the  stutter  largely  vanishing  before  the  requirement  of 
deeds.  "  Th-this  is  no  c-continuous  vaudeville,  an' 
ther  curtain's  rung  d-down  on  yer  act.  Mike,  yer  oF 
varmint,  if  yer  do  any  more  swearin'  while  ther  lady 's 
yere  I  '11  knock  ther  words  back  down  yer  throat.  Yer 
know  me,  so  shut  up.  Th-thar'll  be  fightin'  in 
p-plenty  fer  both  o'  yer  presently,  the  way  things  look. 
Now,  vamoose,  the  two  o'  yer,  an'  be  quiet  about  it. 
Mike,  y-yer  better  do  something  fer  yer  eyes  if  yer 
wanter  see  well  'nough  ter  take  a  pot-shot  at  Farn- 
ham's  gang." 

The  two  discomfited  combatants  slouched  off  unwil 
lingly  enough,  but  the  slender  white  fingers  of  the 
Mexican  remained  clasping  the  speaker's  arm,  her 
upturned  face  filled  with  undisguised  enthusiasm. 
Brown,  after  pretending  to  watch  the  fighters  disappear, 
glanced  uneasily  down  into  her  wondrous  dark  eyes, 
shuffling  his  feet  awkwardly,  his  appearance  that  of  a 
bashful  boy.  Mercedes  laughed  out  of  the  depths  of 
a  heart  apparently  untroubled. 

"  My,  but  eet  vas  so  ver'  big,  senor.  See !  I 
cannot  make  de  fingers  to  go  round  —  no,  no.  I  nevah 
see  such  arm  —  nevah.  But  you  no  care  ?  You  vas 
dat  great  big  all  over,  hey?  Sapristil  who  de  woman 
help  like  such  a  big  Americano?" 

"  B-but  that  ain't  it,  M-M-M-Mercedes,"  blurted 
out  the  perturbed  giant,  in  desperation.  "I-I  want 
yer  t-t-ter  love  me." 

034] 


THE    GAME    OF    FOILS 

"No  comprende,  senor" 

"  O-oh,  yes  yer  do.  L-Lord !  did  n't  I  t-tell  it  all 
ter  yer  s-s-straight  'nough  last  n-night?  Maybe  I 
ain't  m-much  on  ther  t-talk,  but  I  r-reckon  I  sh-sh- 
shot  that  all  right.  C-can't  yer  make  over  th-that 
like  inter  1-love  somehow?  " 

She  released  her  clasp  upon  his  arm,  her  eyes  droop 
ing  behind  their  long  lashes,  the  merry  laughter  fading 
from  her  lips. 

"  Dat  vas  not  von  bit  nice  of  you,  senor.  Vy  you 
ever  keep  bodder  me  so,  ven  I  good  to  you  ?  No,  I 
tol'  you  not  ask  me  dat  so  quick  soon  again.  Did 
I  not  do  dis?  I  tol'  you  den  I  know  not;  I  meet  you 
only  de  twice  —  how  I  lofe  ven  I  meet  you  only  de 
twice  ? " 

"  You  've  m-m-met  me  as  often  a-as  I  h-h-have  you," 
he  interrupted,  "  an'  I  kn-know  1 1-love  you  all  right." 

"Oh,  dat  vas  diff'rent,  ver'  diff'rent,"  and  she 
tripped  back  from  him,  with  a  coquettish  toss  of  the 
black  head.  "  Vy  not  ?  of  course.  I  vas  Mercedes 
—  si ;  vas  dat  not  enough  ?  All  de  caballeros  say  dat 
to  me  ;  dey  say  me  ver'  pretty  girl.  You  tink  dat  too, 
senor? " 

The  perplexed  Brown,  fully  conscious  that  his  great 
strength  was  useless  here,  looked  an  answer,  although 
his  lips  merely  sputtered  in  vain  attempt  at  speech. 

"  So ;  I  read  dat  in  de  eyes.  Den  of  course  you  lofe 
me.  It  vas  de  nature.  But  vis  me  it  vas  not  so 
easy ;  no,  not  near  so  easy.  I  tink  maybe  you  ver' 
nice  man,"  she  tipped  it  off  upon  her  ringer  ends  half 
playfully,  constantly  flashing  her  eyes  up  into  his 

[235] 


BETH    NORVELL 

puzzled  face.  "  I  tink  you  ver'  good  man  ;  I  tink  you 
ver'  strong  man ;  I  tink  maybe  you  be  ver'  nice  to 
Mercedes.  'T  is  for  all  dose  tings  dat  I  like  you,  senor, 
like  you  ver'  mooch  ;  but  lofe,  dat  means  more  as  like, 
an'  I  know  not  for  sure.  Maybe  so,  maybe  not  so  ;  how 
I  tell  yet  for  true  ?  I  tink  de  best  ting  be  I  not  say  eet, 
but  just  tink  'bout  cet;  just  keep  eet  in  mine  own 
heart  till  some  odder  time  ven  I  sure  know.  Vas  eet 
not  so  ? " 

Brown  set  his  teeth  half  savagely,  the  little  witch 
tantalizing  him  with  the  swiftness  of  her  speech,  the 
coy  archness  of  her  manner.  To  his  slower  mentality 
she  was  like  a  humming-bird  darting  about  from  flower 
to  flower,  yet  ever  evading  him. 

u  M-maybe  yer  think  I  ain't  in  e-e-earnest  ?  "  he 
persisted,  doggedly.  "  M-maybe  yer  imagine  I 
d-did  n't  m-m-mean  what  I  s-said  when  I  asked  yer 
ter  m-marry  me?" 

She  glanced  up  quickly  into  his  serious  eyes,  half 
shrinking  away  as  if  she  suddenly  comprehended  the 
dumb,  patient  strength  of  the  man,  his  rugged,  change 
less  resolution.  There  was  a  bit  of  falter  in  the  quick 
response,  yet  this  was  lost  to  him. 

"  No,  senor,  I  no  make  fun.  I  no  dat  kind.  I  do 
de  right,  dat  all ;  I  do  de  right  for  both  of  us.  I  no 
vant  to  do  de  wrong.  You  comprende,  senor  ?  Maybe 
you  soon  grow  ver'  tire  Mercedes,  she  marry  you?" 

The  infatuated  miner  shook  his  head  emphatically, 
and  flung  out  one  hand  toward  her. 

"  No !  Oh,  you  tink  so  now ;  you  tink  so  ver' 
mooch  now,  but  eet  better  ve  vait  an'  see.  I  know  de 


THE    GAME    OF    FOILS 

men  an'  de  vay  dey  forget  after  vile.  Maybe  I  not 
such  good  voman  like  you  tink  me;  maybe  I  cross, 
scold,  get  qvick  mad ;  maybe  I  no  like  live  widout  de 
stage,  de  lights,  de  dance,  an'  de  fun,  hey  ?  Vat  you  do 
den  ?  You  be  ver'  sorry  you  marry.  I  no  like  dat,  no, 
no.  I  want  de  man  to  lofe  me  always  —  nevah  to 
vish  he  not  marry  me.  You  not  know  me  yet ;  I  not 
know  you.  Maybe  ve  vait,  ve  know." 

He  caught  her  gesticulating  hands,  prisoning  them 
strongly  within  both  his  own,  but  she  shook  forward 
her  loosened  hair  until  it  fell  partially  across  her  face, 
hiding  it  thus  from  his  eager  eyes  bent  in  passion 
upon  her. 

"  B-but  tell  me  y-you  love  me  !  T-tell  me  th-th- 
that,  an'  I  '11  let  the  o-other  go !  " 

"  You  vould  make  me  to  say  de  untrue,  senor? " 

"  Of  course  not.  I  w-want  ter  kn-kn-know.  Only 
if  you  d-do  n't,  I  'm  a-goin'  t-ter  git  out  o'  yere." 

She  remained  silent,  motionless,  her  telltale  face 
shadowed,  only  the  quick  rise  and  fall  of  the  bosom 
evidencing  emotion.  The  man  looked  at  her  helplessly, 
his  mouth  setting  firm,  his  eyes  becoming  filled  with 
sudden  doubt. 

"  W-well,  Mercedes,"  he  stuttered,  unable  to  restrain 
himself,  "wh-what  is  it?" 

She  lifted  her  lowered  head  ever  so  slightly,  so  that 
he  saw  her  profile,  the  flush  on  the  cheek  turned 
toward  him. 

"  Maybe  eet  better  you  stay,  senor.  Anyhow,  I  no 
vant  you  go  just  now." 

For  once   he  proved   the   more  swift   of  the  two, 

Dw] 


BETH    NORVELL 

clasping  her  instantly  within  his  arms,  drawing  her  slen 
der  form  close  against  him  with  a  strength  he  failed  to 
realize  in  that  sudden  excess  of  passion.  Holding  her 
thus  in  helpless  subjection  he  flung  aside  the  obstruct 
ing  veil  of  hair,  and  covered  the  flushed  cheeks  with 
kisses.  The  next  moment,  breathless,  but  not  with 
indignation,  the  girl  had  pushed  his  burning  face  aside, 
although  she  still  lay  quivering  within  the  remorseless 
clasp  of  his  arms. 

"  I  no  said  all  dat,  senor ;  I  no  said  all  dat.  You  so 
ver'  strong,  you  hurt  Mercedes.  Please,  senor  —  eet 
vas  not  dat  I  meant  eet  should  be  dis  vay  —  no,  no.  I 
no  said  I  lofe  you ;  I  just  say  stay  till  maybe  I  know 
vich  —  please,  senor." 

"N-not  till  yer  k-kiss  me  yourself,"  and  Brown, 
intensely  conscious  of  triumph,  held  back  the  mass  of 
black  hair,  his  eager  eyes  devouring  the  fair  face  press 
ing  his  shoulder.  "  O-one  kiss  w-with  ther  1-1-lips,  an' 
I  '11  let  yer  g-go." 
"No,  no,  senor." 

"  Th-then  I  h-hold  yer  here  till  some  one  comes." 
"  Eet  vas  not  lofe ;  eet  vas  just  to  get  avay." 
"  I-I  '11  take  ch-chances  on  that,  1-little  girl." 
Their  lips  met  and  clung;  all  unconsciously  the  free 
arm  of  the  girl  stole  upward,  clasping  the  man's  broad 
shoulder.     For  that  one  instant  she  forgot  all  except 
ing  the  new  joy  of  that  embrace,  the  crowning  faith 
that  this  man  loved  her  as  no  other  ever  had  —  truly, 
nobly,  and  forever.     Her  face  was  aglow  as  she  drew 
reluctantly   back   from   him,  her  eyes  upon   his,  her 
cheeks    flushed,    her    lips    trembling.      Yet  with   the 

[>38] 


THE    GAME    OF    FOILS 

parting  came  as  swiftly  back  the  resolution  which  made 
her  strong. 

"Eh,  senor;  eet  shame  me,  but  you  promise  — 
please,  senor ! " 

Like  a  flash,  in  some  mysterious  manner,  she  had 
slipped  free,  evaded  his  effort  to  grasp  her  dress,  and, 
with  quick,  whirling  motion,  was  already  half-way 
across  the  open  space,  daring  to  mock  him  even  while 
flinging  back  her  long  hair,  the  sunlight  full  upon  her. 
Never  could  she  appear  more  delicately  attractive, 
more  coquettishly  charming. 

"Ah,  see  —  you  tink  me  de  prisoner.  Eet  vas  not 
all  de  strength,  senor,  not  all.  You  no  can  catch  me 
again  till  I  lofe  you  ;  not  de  once  till  I  lofe  you,  senor." 

He  started  toward  her  blindly,  taunted  by  these 
unexpected  words  of  renunciation.  But  she  danced 
away,  ever  managing  to  keep  well  beyond  reach,  until 
she  disappeared  within  the  narrow  path  leading  to  the 
cabin.  He  could  see  her  through  the  vista  of  branches, 
pausing  to  look  back  and  watch  if  he  followed. 

"B-but  you  do,"  he  called  out,  "I-I  know  you 
d-do.  Won't  yer  just  s-s-say  it  for  me  onct  ?  " 

"  Say  dat  I  marry  you  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,  for  it  means  ther  same.  Anyhow,  s-say  yer 
love  me." 

She  laughed,  shaking  her  head  so  hard  the  black 
hair  became  a  whirling  cloud  about  her. 

"  No,  no !  eet  not  de  same,  senor.  Maybe  I  lofe 
you,  maybe  not  yet.  Dat  ees  vat  you  must  fin'  out. 
But  marry  ?  Dat  no  show  I  lofe  you.  Oh,  de  men  ! 
to  tink  eet  vas  de  only  vay  to  prove  lofe  to  marry. 

[239] 


BETH    NORVELL 

No,  no !  maybe  I  show  you  some  day  eef  I  lofe  you ; 
si,  some  day  I  show  you  ven  I  know  true.  But  dat 
not  mean  I  marry  you.  Dat  mean  more  as  dat — you 
see.  AdioSj  sen  or." 

And   he  stood  alone,   staring  at   the    blank   door, 
strangely  happy,  although  not  content. 


[240] 


CHAPTER   XXI 

UNDER  ARREST 

WHEN  Brown  emerged  from  behind  the  pro 
tection  of  the  cabin,  his  freckled  face  yet 
burning  red  in  memory  of  his  strenuous  love- 
making,  he  discovered  both  Hicks  and  Winston  stand 
ing  upon  the  rock  which  shortly  before  had  formed 
their  breakfast  table,  gazing  watchfully  off  into  the 
purple  depths  of  the  canyon,  occasionally  lifting  their 
eyes  to  search  carefully  the  nearer  surroundings  about 
the  hostile  "  Independence."  Something  serious  was 
in  the  air,  and  all  three  men  felt  its  mysterious  pres 
ence.  Hicks  held  the  field-glasses  in  his  hands,  out 
wardly  calm,  yet  his  old  face  already  beginning  to 
exhibit  the  excitement  of  rapidly  culminating  events. 
That  they  were  not  to  be  long  left  undisturbed  was 
promised  by  an  increasing  number  of  figures  distinctly 
visible  around  the  distant  shaft-house  and  dump,  as 
well  as  the  continuous  shouting,  indistinguishable  as 
to  words  but  pronounced  in  volume,  borne  through 
the  clear  air  to  their  ears. 

"  I  'm  a  liar  if  ther  was  n't  twenty  in  that  last  bunch," 
Hicks  muttered,  just  a  trifle  uneasily.  "  Good  Lord, 
boys !  it 's  an  army  they  're  organizin'  over  yonder. 
Blame  me  if  I  onderstan'  that  sorter  scheme  at  all. 
It  don't  look  nat'ral.  I  never  thought  Farnham  was 
no  coward  when  ther  time  come  fer  fightin',  but  this 

Dm] 


BETH    NORVELL 

kind  o'  fixin'  shore  looks  as  if  we  had  him  skeered 
stiff.  Wai,  it  '11  take  more  'n  a  bunch  o'  San  Juan 
toughs  to  skeer  me.  I  reckon  ther  present  plan  must 
be  ter  try  rushin'  ther  {  Little  Yankee.' ' 

He  wheeled  about,  driving  the  extended  tubes  of 
his  glass  together,  his  gray  beard  forking  out  in  front 
of  his  lean,  brown  face  like  so  many  bristles. 

"Oh,  is  thet  you  come  back,  Stutter?  Thought  I 
heerd  somebody  walkin'  behind  me.  I  reckon,  judgin' 
from  ther  outlook  over  thar,  thet  the  dance  is  'bout 
ter  begin ;  leastwise,  the  fiddlers  is  takin'  their  places," 
and  he  waved  his  gnarled  hand  toward  the  distant 
crowd.  "  Got  somethin'  like  a  reg'ment  thar  now, 
hoss  and  fut,  an'  it 's  safe  ter  bet  thar 's  more  a-comin'. 
This  yere  fracas  must  be  gittin'  some  celebrated,  an' 
bids  fair  ter  draw  bigger  'n  a  three-ringed  circus.  All 
ther  scum  o'  San  Juan  must  'a  got  a  private  tip  thet 
we  was  easy  marks.  They  're  out  yere  like  crows 
hopin'  ter  pick  our  bones  clean  afore  the  law  kin  git 
any  show  at  all.  Wai,  it  '11  be  a  tough  meal  all  right, 
an'  some  of  'em  are  mighty  liable  ter  have  trouble  with 
their  digestion,  fer  thar  's  goin'  ter  be  considerable  lead 
eat  first.  Now  see  yere,  Stutter,  the  safest  thing  we 
kin  do  is  git  ready.  You  chase  that  whole  bunch 
yonder  back  behind  them  rocks,  where  they  '11  be 
out  o'  the  way  —  the  Swede  an'  the  women.  Do  it 
lively,  an'  you  an'  Mike  stay  up  thar  with  'em,  with 
your  guns  handy.  Keep  under  cover  as  much  as 
ye  kin,  for  some  o'  them  lads  out  thar  will  have  glasses 
with  'em,  and  be  watchin'  of  us  almighty  close. 
Hurry  'long  now;  me  an'  Winston  will  stop  yere 

[242] 


UNDER    ARREST 

until  we  find  out  just  what  their  little  game  is  likely 
ter  be." 

He  turned  away  from  his  partner,  facing  once  again 
toward  the  "  Independence."  Then  he  readjusted  the 
tubes,  and  passed  them  over  to  his  silent  companion. 

"Just  see  what  you  make  out  o'  it,  Mr.  Winston; 
ye  're  some  younger,  an'  yer  eyes  ought  ter  be  a  heap 
better  'n  mine." 

The  young  engineer,  his  heart  already  beginning  to 
throb  with  the  excitement  of  an  unaccustomed  position 
of  danger,  ran  the  lenses  carefully  back  and  forth  from 
the  half-concealed  bunk-house  to  the  nearer  ore-dump, 
searching  for  every  sign  of  life.  Whatever  emotion 
swayed  him,  there  was  not  the  slightest  tremor  to  the 
steady  hands  supporting  the  levelled  tubes. 

"  They  have  certainly  got  together  a  considerable 
number  of  men,"  he  reported,  the  glass  still  at  his 
eyes.  "  Roughs  the  most  of  them  look  to  be,  from 
their  clothes.  The  largest  number  are  grouped  in 
between  the  shaft-house  and  the  dump,  but  there  must 
be  a  dozen  or  fifteen  down  below  at  the  edge  of  those 
cedars.  Farnham  is  at  the  shaft-house  —  no,  he  and 
another  fellow  have  just  started  down  the  dump,  walk 
ing  this  way.  Now  they  have  gone  into  the  cedars, 
and  are  coming  straight  through.  What 's  up,  do  you 
suppose  —  negotiations  ?  " 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  know,"  returned  the  old  miner, 
staring  blankly.  "  This  whole  thing  kinder  jiggers 
me.  Maybe  he  thinks  he  kin  skeer  us  out  by  a  good 
brand  o'  talk.  He  's  a  bit  o'  a  bluffer,  that  Farn 
ham." 

043] 


BETH    NORVELL 

The  two  watchers  waited  in  breathless  expectancy, 
leaning  on  their  loaded  Winchesters,  their  eyes  eagerly 
fastened  on  the  concealing  cedars.  Behind  where 
they  remained  in  the  open,  yet  within  easy  rifle-shot, 
the  heads  of  Brown  and  Old  Mike  rose  cautiously 
above  the  rock  rampart  of  their  natural  fort.  Suddenly 
two  men,  walking  abreast,  emerged  from  out  the 
shadow  of  the  wood,  and  came  straight  toward  them 
across  the  open  ridge  of  rocks.  They  advanced  care 
lessly,  making  no  effort  to  pick  their  path,  and  in 
apparently  utter  indifference  to  any  possible  peril. 
The  one  was  Farnham,  his  slender  form  erect,  his 
shoulders  squared,  his  hat  pushed  jauntily  back  so  as 
to  reveal  fully  the  smoothly  shaven  face.  The  other 
bent  slightly  forward  as  he  walked,  his  wide  brim 
drawn  low  over  his  eyes,  leaving  little  visible  except 
the  point  of  a  closely  trimmed  beard.  He  was  heavily 
built,  and  a  "  45  "  dangled  conspicuously  at  his  hip.  If 
Farnham  bore  arms  they  were  concealed  beneath  the 
skirt  of  his  coat.  Watching  them  approach,  Win 
ston's  eyes  became  threatening,  his  hands  involuntarily 
clinching,  but  Hicks  remained  motionless,  his  lean  jaws 
continuously  munching  on  the  tobacco  in  his  cheek. 

"Who  the  hell  is  that  with  him?  "  he  questioned, 
wonderingly.  "  Do  you  know  the  feller  ? " 

Winston  shook  his  head,  his  own  steady  gaze  riveted 
upon  Farnham.  Deliberately  the  two  climbed  the 
low  ore-dump  side  by  side,  and  came  forth  on  top  into 
the  full  glare  of  the  sun.  Hicks's  Winchester  sank  to 
a  level,  his  wicked  old  eye  peering  along  the  polished 
barrel. 

[244] 


UNDER    ARREST 

"  I  '11  have  to  ask  ye  ter  stop  right  thar,  gents,"  he 
said,  genially,  drawing  back  the  hammer  with  a  sharp 
click.  "Ye  're  trespassin'  on  my  property." 

The  two  men  came  to  an  instant  halt,  Farnham 
smiling  unpleasantly,  his  hands  buried  in  his  pockets. 
His  companion  hastily  shoved  back  his  hat,  as  though 
in  surprise  at  the  summons,  revealing  a  broad,  ruddy 
face,  shadowed  by  iron-gray  whiskers.  Hicks  half 
lowered  his  gun,  giving  vent  to  a  smothered  oath. 

"  By  God,  it 's  the  sheriff! "  he  muttered,  in  com 
plete  bewilderment.  "What  the  hell  are  we  up 
against  ? " 

There  was  an  interval  of  intense  silence,  both  parties 
gazing  at  each  other,  the  one  side  startled,  unnerved, 
the  other  cool,  contemptuous.  It  was  the  sheriff  who 
first  spoke,  standing  firmly  on  his  short  legs,  and 
quietly  stroking  his  beard. 

"  You  probably  recognize  me,  Bill  Hicks,"  he  said, 
calmly,  "  and  it  might  be  just  as  healthy  for  you  to 
lower  that  gun.  I  ain't  here  hunting  any  trouble,  but 
if  it  begins  I  've  got  a  posse  over  yonder  big  enough 
to  make  it  mighty  interesting.  You  sabe?" 

Old  Hicks  hesitated,  his  finger  yet  hovering  about 
the  trigger,  his  eyes  filled  with  doubt.  There  was 
some  mystery  in  this  affair  he  could  not  in  the  least 
fathom,  but  he  was  obstinate  and  hard-headed. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  all  right,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  he 
returned,  yet  speaking  half  angrily.  "  But  I  don't 
know  what  ye  're  dippin'  inter  this  yere  affair  fer.  I 
have  n't  any  quarrel  with  you,  ner  any  cause  fer  one. 
But  I  have  with  that  grinnin'  cuss  alongside  o'  yer. 

[245] 


BETH    NORVELL 

I  '11  talk  with  you  all  right,  but  Farnham  will  either 
mosey  back  ter  his  own  den  o'  thieves,  'er  I  '11  blow  a 
hole  plumb  through  him  —  that's  flat.  I  don't  talk 
ter  his  kind." 

The  sheriff  held  up  one  hand,  taking  a  single  step 
forward,  his  face  grown  sternly  resolute. 

"  Mr.  Farnham  chances  to  be  present  as  my  deputy," 
he  announced  gravely.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  a  quarrel  between  you  two  men,  and  I  care  less. 
I  'm  here  to  enforce  the  law  and  arrest  law-breakers. 
If  you  decide  to  interfere  between  me  and  my  duty 
I  '11  know  how  to  act.  I  've  smelt  of  the  business  end 
of  a  gun  before  to-day,  and  I  guess  nobody  ever  saw 
Sam  Hayes  play  baby  when  there  was  a  fight  on  tap. 
If  there  's  trouble  between  you  and  Farnham,  have  it 
out,  and  git  done  with  it  in  proper  fashion,  but  just 
now  he  's  a  sworn  officer  of  the  law,  and  when  you 
threaten  him  you  threaten  all  Gulpin  County.  Do 
you  manage  to  digest  that  fact,  Hicks  ? " 

The  sturdy  old  prospector,  his  face  white  with  rage 
under  the  tan,  uncocked  his  rifle  and  dropped  the 
butt  heavily  upon  the  earth,  his  eyes  wandering  from 
the  face  of  the  sheriff  to  that  of  Winston. 

"What  the  hell  is  it  yer  want,  then?"  he  asked 
sullenly.  Hayes  smiled,  shifting  easily  so  as  to  rest  his 
weight  on  one  leg. 

"  Got  anybody  in  your  bunch  named  Winston  ?  " 
he  questioned,  "  Ned  Winston,  mining  engineer  ?  " 

The  younger  man  started  in  surprise. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  he  replied,  before  Hicks  could 
speak.  The  sheriff  looked  toward  him  curiously, 

[246] 


UNDER    ARREST 

noting  the  square  jaw,  the  steady  gray  eyes ;  then  he 
glanced  aside  at  Farnham.  The  latter  nodded  care 
lessly. 

"  So  far,  so  good.  By  the  same  luck,  have  you  a 
Swede  here  called  Nels  Swanson  ? " 

Hicks  shook  his  head  in  uncertainty. 

c<  There  's  a  Swede  here,  all  right,  who  belongs  ter 
the  Independence'  gang.  I  don't  know  his  name." 

"  It 's  Swanson,"  put  in  Farnham,  cheerfully. 
"  Those  are  the  two  birds  you  're  after,  sheriff." 

The  latter  official,  as  though  fascinated  by  what 
he  read  there,  never  ventured  to  remove  his  watch 
fulness  from  the  face  of  the  engineer,  yet  he  smiled 
grimly. 

"Then  I  '11  have  to  trouble  you  to  trot  out  the 
Swede,  Hicks,"  he  said,  a  distinct  command  in  his 
voice.  "After  he  's  here  we  '11  get  down  to  business." 

It  was  fully  five  minutes  before  the  fellow  arrived, 
his  movements  slow  and  reluctant.  From  his  language, 
expressing  his  feelings  freely  to  Mike  and  Brown,  who 
were  engaged  in  urging  him  forward,  it  was  evident  he 
experienced  no  ambition  to  appear  in  the  limelight. 
The  four  men  waiting  his  coming  remained  motionless, 
intently  watchful  of  one  another.  As  the  slowly  mov 
ing  Swede  finally  approached,  Hayes  ventured  to 
remove  his  eyes  from  Winston  just  long  enough  to 
scan  swiftly  the  mournful  countenance,  that  single 
glance  revealing  to  him  the  character  of  the  man.  The 
latter  gazed  uneasily  from  one  face  to  another,  his  mild 
blue  eyes  picturing  distress,  his  fingers  pulling  aim 
lessly  at  his  moustache. 


BETH    N  ORVELL 

"Ay  ban  yere  by  you  fellers,"  he  confessed  sorrow 
fully,  unable  to  determine  which  person  it  was  that 
wanted  him. 

"So  I  see,"  admitted  the  sheriff  laconically.  "Are 
you  Nels  Swanson  ?  " 

The  fellow  swallowed  something  in  his  throat  that 
seemed  to  choke  him.  This  question  sounded  famil 
iar  ;  it  brought  back  in  a  rush  a  recollection  of  his  late 
controversy  with  Mr.  O'Brien.  His  face  flushed,  his 
eyes  hardening. 

"Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson !  "  he  exploded,  beating  the 
air  with  clenched  fist.  "Ay  ban  Lutheran!  Ay  ban 
shovel-man  by  Meester  Burke.  Ay  get  two  tollar 
saxty  cint !  Ay  not  give  won  tamn  for  you  !  Ay  lick 
de  fellar  vot  ask  me  dot  again  !  " 

The  sheriff  stared  at  him,  much  as  he  might  have 
examined  a  new  and  peculiar  specimen  of  bug. 

"  I  don't  recall  having  asked  you  anything  about 
your  family  history,"  he  said  quietly,  dropping  one 
hand  in  apparent  carelessness  on  the  butt  of  his  "  45." 
"  Your  name  was  all  I  wanted."  He  tapped  the  breast 
of  his  coat  suggestively,  his  gaze  returning  to  Winston. 

"Well,  gents,  we  might  as  well  bring  this  affair  to 
a  focus,  although  no  doubt  you  two  understand  the 
meaning  of  it  pretty  well  already.  I  Ve  got  warrants 
here  for  the  arrest  of  Winston  and  Swanson.  I  hope 
neither  of  you  intend  to  kick  up  any  row." 

The  white  teeth  of  the  young  mining  engineer  set 
like  a  trap,  his  gray  eyes  gleaming  dangerously  beneath 
frowning  brows.  Instinctively  he  took  a  quick  step 
forward. 

[248] 


UNDER    ARREST 

"  Warrants  ? "  he  exclaimed,  breathlessly.  "  In 
God's  name,  for  what  ?  " 

Hayes  tightened  his  grip  on  the  gun  butt,  drawing 
it  half  from  the  sheath,  his  eyes  narrowing. 

"For  the  murder  of  Jack  Burke,"  he  said  tersely. 
"  Don't  you  move,  young  man  !  " 

There  was  a  long  moment  of  intense,  strained 
silence,  in  which  the  five  men  could  hear  nothing 
but  their  own  quick  breathing.  Before  Winston  every 
thing  grew  indistinct,  unreal,  the  faces  fronting  him  a 
phantasy  of  imagination.  He  felt  the  fierce  throb  of 
his  own  pulses,  a  sudden  dull  pain  shooting  through 
his  temples.  Murder!  The  terrible  word  struck  like 
a  blow,  appearing  to  paralyze  all  his  faculties.  In 
front  of  him,  as  if  painted,  he  saw  that  fierce  struggle 
in  the  dark,  the  limp  figure  lying  huddled  among  the 
rocks.  Murder!  Aye,  and  how  could  he  prove  it 
otherwise?  How  could  he  hope  to  clear  himself  from 
the  foul  charge  ?  Even  as  he  yet  swayed  unsteadily 
upon  his  feet,  a  hand  pressed  across  his  eyes  as  if 
shielding  them  from  that  horrible  vision,  a  voice,  deep 
and  strident,  rang  out : 

"  Mike  an'  me  have  got  the  two  cusses  covered, 
Mr.  Winston.  If  they  move,  or  you  give  us  the  high 
ball,  we  '11  plug  'em  dead  centre !  " 


l>49] 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  INTERVENTION  OF  SWANSON 

HAYES  never  changed  his  position,  nor  removed 
his  eyes  from  Winston,  his  right  hand  still  rest 
ing  upon  the  butt  of  his  "45,"  his  lips  set  in 
rigid  line.  The  engineer,  the  mist  partially  clearing 
from  his  brain,  retained  no  thought  except  for  Farn- 
ham,  who  remained  motionless,  staring  over  his  head 
into  the  black,  threatening  muzzle  of  Stutter  Brown's 
levelled  gun.  These  were  Western  men  ;  they  recog 
nized  instantly  the  potency  of  "the  drop,"  the  absolute 
certainty  of  death  if  they  stirred  a  muscle.  They 
could  only  wait,  breathless,  uncertain,  the  next  move 
in  this  desperate  game.  To  Winston  it  seemed  an 
hour  he  hesitated,  his  mind  a  chaos,  temptation  buffet 
ing  him  remorselessly.  He  saw  the  sheriffs  face  set 
hard,  and  resolute  behind  its  iron-gray  beard ;  he  marked 
the  reckless  sneer  curling  Farnham's  lips,  the  livid 
mark  under  his  eye  where  he  had  struck  him.  The 
intense  hatred  he  felt  for  this  man  swept  across  him 
fiercely,  for  an  instant  driving  out  of  his  heart  all 
thought  of  mercy.  As  suddenly  he  remembered  the 
helpless  woman  yonder,  within  easy  view,  possibly 
even  then  upon  her  knees  in  supplication.  It  was  this 
conception  that  aroused  him.  He  withdrew  his  dull 
gaze  from  off  that  hateful,  mocking  face,  his  clenched 
hands  opening,  his  mind  responding  to  a  new-born 

[250] 


INTERVENTION    OF    SWANSON 

will.  "Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord"  —  like  an  echo,  perhaps  from  the  very  prayer 
her  lips  were  speaking,  the  solemn  words  came  into  his 
consciousness.  With  face  white,  and  lips  trembling, 
he  stepped  suddenly  back,  and  flung  up  one  hand. 

"  Don't  fire,  boys !  "  he  commanded,  his  voice  ringing 
clear  and  purposeful.  "  Drop  your  guns  ;  it 's  all  right. 
This  is  my  game,  and  I  intend  to  play  it  out  alone." 

Farnham  laughed,  the  quick  reaction  possibly 
affecting  even  his  iron  nerves.  Winston  whirled  and 
fronted  him,  the  gray  eyes  blazing. 

"  Damn  you,  you  sneaking,  sneering  brute ! "  he 
burst  forth.  "You  thief,  you  woman-beater,  you 
unspeakable  cur!  I  surrender  to  the  sheriff  of  Gulpin 
County,  not  to  you.  I  've  got  the  evidence  to  send 
you  to  the  penitentiary,  and  I  '11  do  it,  even  though  I 
stand  myself  in  the  shadow  of  death  while  I  bear  wit 
ness  to  your  infamy.  You  think  this  arrest  will  shut 
my  mouth  !  You  imagine  this  will  render  me  harm 
less  !  But,  by  God,  it  will  not !  I  '11  fight  you  until 
the  last  breath  leaves  my  body.  I  '11  tear  you  out 
from  the  protection  of  law ;  I  '11  show  you  the  kind  of 
a  man  you  have  stacked  up  against.  I  don't  know 
whether  this  murder  charge  is  all  a  trick  or  not;  I 
don't  more  than  half  believe  Jack  Burke  is  dead.  But 
be  that  as  it  may,  I  '11  pull  you  down,  Biff  Farnham, 
not  in  any  revenge  for  wrong  done  me,  but  to  save  a 
woman  whom  you  know.  I  '11  do  it,  damn  you, 
though  it  cost  me  my  life ! " 

The  sheriffs  iron  hand  fell  in  restraint  upon  his 
shoulder,  the  burly  body  interposed  between  them. 


BETH    NORVELL 

"You're  all  right,"  Hayes  said  quietly,  his  eyes 
pleasantly  interested.  "You  've  been  squar'  with  me, 
young  fellow,  an'  I  'm  goin'  ter  be  squar'  with  you. 
You  kin  bet  on  that.  They  '11  give  you  a  chance 
down  below  to  fight  out  your  quarrel  with  Farnham." 

Winston,  his  quick  rage  as  instantly  fading,  drew 
one  hand  across  his  face,  the  real  danger  of  his  present 
situation  flowing  back  suddenly  to  mind. 

"Where  do  you  mean  to  take  us?"  he  questioned. 

"San  Juan." 

"  Right  away  ?  " 

"  Wai,  'bout  as  soon  as  we  kin  git  you  back  ter  whar 
the  hosses  are,  yonder." 

"You  promise  us  protection  from  that  'Independ 
ence'  outfit?" 

The  sheriff  nodded  decisively. 

"  Never  lost  no  prisoner  yet  to  a  mob,"  he  replied 
confidently.  "  I  reckon  thar  '11  be  one  hell  of  a  fight 
before  I  do  now.  However,  you  don't  need  to  worry, 
young  man.  On  second  thought,  I  '11  have  the  hosses 
brought  over  here,  an'  we  '11  go  down  this  trail." 

Winston  glanced  about  into  the  faces  of  Hicks  and  the 
Swede.  There  was  no  help  forthcoming  from  either,  but 
he  had  already  reached  a  definite  decision  for  himself. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  calmly,  "  I  '11  go  with  you 
quietly,  sheriff,  only  I  don't  need  any  hand-cuffing." 

"Never  use  'em,"  and  Hayes  affectionately  patted 
his  gun.  "  I  reckon  this  yere  instrument  will  do  the 
business  all  right  if  any  misunderstandin'  should  arise 
atween  us  goin'  down.  However,  I  '11  trouble  yer  to 
discard  them  weapons  for  the  sake  o'  peace." 

[252] 


INTERVENTION     OF    SWANSON 

Without  a  word  the  engineer  unbuckled  his  belt, 
tossed  it  over  to  Hicks,  and  then  slowly  turned  his 
body  about  to  prove  himself  entirely  disarmed.  Then 
he  smiled,  and  extended  his  hand.  The  sheriff  grasped 
it  cordially.  , 

11  There  need  be  no  hard  feeling  between  us,  Hayes," 
he  said  pleasantly.  "You  're  only  doing  your  sworn 
duty;  I  understand  that.  But  there 's  something  rot 
ten  in  this  affair  somewhere.  All  I  ask  is  a  square  deal." 

"An'  yer  kin  bet  you'll  git  it,  Mr.  Winston,  er 
Sam  Hayes  will  find  out  why.  This  yere  Independ 
ence'  outfit  is  no  favorites  o'  mine,  an'  if  the  whole 
difficulty  turns  out  ter  be  nothin'  but  a  minin'  squabble, 
the  jury  ain't  likely  ter  be  very  hard  on  yer.  That 's 
my  way  o'  figgerin'  on  it,  from  what  little  I  know." 
He  glanced  keenly  about,  seeking  to  gain  a  clearer 
idea  of  their  immediate  surroundings.  "  Maybe  you 
an'  Swanson  better  mosey  back  yonder  to  the  cabin, 
where  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  you  easy,  while  I  send 
after  the  hosses.  Farnham,  climb  back  on  top  of  the 
dump  there,  an'  give  them  boys  the  signal  to  come  on." 

The  gambler  removed  his  hat,  running  one  hand 
carelessly  through  his  hair,  his  thin  lips  sufficiently 
parted  to  reveal  his  white  teeth. 

"  I  hardly  think  we  are  exactly  done  yet,  Mr. 
Sheriff,"  he  said  sarcastically.  "  I  'm  not  very  much 
worried  regarding  your  suddenly  expressed  sympathy 
for  this  fellow,  or  your  desire  to  get  him  offunscratched; 
but  I  feel  compelled  to  insist  upon  receiving  all  the 
law  allows  me  in  this  game  we  're  playing.  There  's 
another  warrant  in  your  pocket  for  Winston." 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  By  thunder,  yes ;  I  'd  clear  forgot  it,"  fumbling  at 
his  papers. 

"  Well,  I  had  n't ;  matter  of  some  personal  impor 
tance  to  me,"  the  voice  taking  on  a  lazy,  insolent 
drawl.  "  Of  course,  the  fellow  is  under  arrest  all  right, 
but  that  murder  business  is  only  part  of  it  —  I  want 
my  wife." 

Winston  started  forward,  crouching  as  though  he 
would  spring  directly  at  the  other's  throat. 

"  Your  wife  ? "  he  exclaimed  madly,  his  voice  chok 
ing.  "  Your  wife  ?  You  Ve  sworn  out  a  warrant  for 
me  on  account  of  your  wife?" 

"  Something  of  that  nature,  I  believe,"  gazing  at  him 
insolently.  "Abduction  I  think  the  lawyers  call  it, 
and  I  notice  you  Ve  got  the  lady  hidden  away  back 
yonder  now."  He  pointed  across  the  other's  shoulder. 
"  Caught  with  the  goods.  Oh,  you  're  a  fine  preacher 
of  morals,  but  I  Ve  got  you  dead  to  rights  this  time." 

Winston  stood  as  though  carven  from  stone,  his 
face  deathly  white,  his  lips  compressed,  his  gray  eyes 
burning,  never  wavering  from  that  mocking  face. 
With  all  his  strength  of  will  he  battled  back  the  first 
mad  impulse  to  throttle  the  man,  to  crush  him  into 
shapeless  pulp.  For  one  awful  moment  his  mind 
became  a  chaos,  his  blood  throbbing  fire.  To  kill  would 
be  joy,  a  relief  inexpressible.  Farnham  realized  the 
impulse,  and  drew  back,  not  shrinking  away,  but 
bracing  for  the  contest.  But  the  engineer  gripped 
himself  in  time. 

"  Hayes,"  he  ejaculated  hoarsely,  "  let  the  lady 
decide  this.  If  she  says  no,  then,  by  God,  I  '11  -fight 

[254] 


INTERVENTION    OF     SWANSON 

you  all  single-handed  before  he  ever  puts  touch  upon 
her!" 

Old  Bill  Hicks  was  beside  him  in  a  single  stride,  his 
face  blazing. 

"  I  'm  damned  if  yer  will ! "  he  growled  madly.  "  I  'm 
in  on  this  deal,  law  er  no  law.  The  whole  blame  thing 
is  a  bluff,  an'  I  '11  not  stan'  fer  it  no  longer.  Yer  step 
back  thar,  Sam  Hayes,  er  else  Gulpin  County  will  be 
lookin'  'round  fer  another  sheriff.  I  've  got  plumb  ter 
the  limit  o'  patience  in  this  game." 

Winston  grasped  the  old  man's  uplifted  arm,  whirl 
ing  him  sharply  around. 

"  No,"  he  exclaimed  almost  wearily,  "  it 's  not  to  be 
a  fight  yet;  let  —  let  her  decide  between  us." 

She  was  already  coming,  walking  alone  directly  across 
the  open  space  toward  them.  The  eyes  of  the  bewil 
dered  men  were  upon  her,  marking  the  white  face,  ren 
dered  more  noticeable  by  its  frame  of  dark,  uncovered 
hair,  the  firm,  womanly  chin,  the  tightly  compressed 
lips,  the  resolute,  unwavering  eyes.  She  walked  firmly, 
confidently  forward,  her  head  proudly  upliftedj  a  stately 
dignity  about  her  bearing  which  could  not  be  ignored. 
If  she  perceived  either  Winston  or  Farnham  in  that 
group  she  gave  no  sign,  never  halting  until  she  stood 
directly  before  Sam  Hayes.  Involuntarily,  unconscious 
of  the  act,  the  sheriff  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  stood 
twirling  it  in  his  hands. 

"  Is  it  indeed  true,"  she  asked,  her  voice  thrilling 
with  suppressed  feeling,  "that  you  possess  a  warrant 
sworn  out  by  Biff  Farnham,  charging  Mr.  Winston 
with  the  abduction  of  his  wife  ?  " 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  and  the  man  changed  the  weight  of 
his  body  to  the  other  foot.  "  I  'm  sorry  ter  say  it 's 
true." 

She  lifted  one  hand  suddenly  to  her  forehead  as 
though  in  pain. 

"And  you  intend  to  serve  it?  " 

"  I  have  no  choice,  ma'am ;  I  'm  an  officer  of  the 
law." 

There  followed  a  pause,  seemingly  endless,  the  eyes 
of  the  men  turned  away.  She  lifted  her  head,  sweep 
ing  her  gaze  swiftly  across  the  faces,  and  a  flush  crept 
into  the  white  cheeks. 

"  Gentlemen,"  her  voice  low  and  clear,  but  with  a 
slight  falter  occasionally  yielding  peculiar  power  to  the 
words,  "it  is  true  I  am  that  man's  wife."  She  looked 
directly  at  him,  apparently  oblivious  of  his  attempt  at 
smiling  indifference.  "  By  the  laws  of  God  and  men 
I  am  his  wife.  I  neither  deny  this,  nor  have  ever 
sought  to  escape  from  its  obligations.  To  me,  the  vows 
of  marriage  were  sacred  when  first  assumed ;  they 
remain  no  less  sacred  now.  This  man  is  fully  aware 
of  how  I  feel  in  this  regard ;  he  knows  I  have  proved 
true  in  spirit  and  letter  to  my  vows ;  he  knows  exactly 
why  I  am  not  living  with  him ;  why  I  am  earning  my 
own  living  in  the  world ;  why  I  am  here  in  this  posi 
tion  to-day.  He  knows  it  all,  I  say,  because  the 
desertion  was  his,  not  mine  ;  and  his  present  deliberate, 
cowardly  attempt  to  besmirch  my  character  by  doing 
an  injury  to  another  is  an  unbearable  insult,  an  outrage 
more  serious  than  if  he  had  struck  me  a  physical  blow. 
The  one  I  might  forgive,  as  I  have  before  forgiven, 


INTERVENTION     OF     SWANSON 

but  the  other  is  beyond  the  limits  of  pardon,  if  I 
would  retain  my  own  self-respect.  I  am  a  woman,  an 
honorable  woman,  and  my  reputation  is  more  to  me 
than  life." 

She  paused,  breathing  heavily,  her  head  flung  back, 
her  hands  clenched  as  though  in  desperate  effort  at 
self-control. 

"You  —  you !  "  the  words  seemed  fairly  forced  from 
between  her  lips,  "  there  has  never  been  a  time  when  I 
would  not  have  gone  to  you  at  a  word,  at  your  slightest 
expressed  desire.  However  I  may  have  despised  you 
in  my  secret  heart,  I  remained  loyal  outwardly,  and 
would  have  gone  to  you  in  response  to  the  call  of  duty. 
There  is  no  such  duty  now.  You  have  openly  insulted 
and  degraded  me;  you  have  accused  me  before  the 
world ;  you  have  dragged  my  name  in  the  muck ;  you 
have  attempted  to  dethrone  my  womanhood.  The 
past  is  over ;  it  is  over  forever.  The  law  may  continue 
to  hold  me  as  your  wife,  but  I  am  not  your  wife.  The 
records  of  the  church  may  so  name  me,  but  they  are 
false.  A  God  of  love  could  never  have  linked  me  to 
such  a  brute  —  the  very  thought  is  infamy.  Do  not 
touch  me !  Do  not  speak  to  me !  I  believe  I  could 
kill  you  easier  than  I  could  ever  again  yield  to  you  so 
much  as  a  word." 

She  reeled  as  though  about  to  fall,  her  hand  pressed 
against  her  heart.  Before  an  arm  could  be  out 
stretched  in  support,  she  had  rallied,  and  turned  away. 
With  head  lowered,  her  face  shadowed  by  her  hair,  she 
walked  slowly  toward  the  cabin.  No  man  in  the 
group  stirred  until  she  had  disappeared.  Then  the 

E*57] 


BETH    NORVELL 

sheriff  fumblingly  replaced  his  hat,  his  eyes  wandering 
in  uncertainty  from  Farnham  to  Winston. 

"  By  God  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  though  in  relief,  catch 
ing  his  breath  quickly  and  wiping  his  forehead.  "  By 
God  !  but  that  was  fierce."  Recalling  his  own  duty  he 
reached  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  heavily  upon  the 
shoulder  of  the  man  standing  next  him.  It  chanced 
to  be  the  Swede. 

"  Go  on  into  the  cabin,"  he  commanded,  a  returning 
sternness  in  the  order. 

The  surprised  man  stared  at  him  in  dull  bewilder 
ment. 

"Vat  for  Ay  go— hey ? " 

"  Because  you  're  under  arrest." 

"Vat  dot  you  say?  I  vas  arrest?  Maybe  you 
not  know  me,  hey  ?  Ay  tells  you  vat  Ay  vas  mighty 
quick.  Ay  ban  Nels  Swanson ;  Ay  ban  Lutheran ; 
Ay  ban  shovel— 

"Oh,  shut  up  ;  ye  're  under  arrest,  I  tell  you  —  move 
on  now." 

"Vat  vas  dis  under  arrest?"  the  blue  eyes  losing 
their  mildness,  the  drooping  moustache  beginning  to 
bristle.  "  Ay  no  understand  'bout  dis  arrest.  Vat  Ay 
do,  hey?" 

"  Helped  to  kill  Jack  Burke." 

The  startled  Norseman  stared  at  him,  gulping,  his 
eyes  fairly  protruding  from  his  face,  his  breath  hissing 
between  his  gritted  teeth.  The  wild  berserker  blood 
was  surging  hot  through  his  veins. 

"  Ut  vas  von  lie  !  You  kill  me  so  !  By  tamn, 
no!" 


INTERVENTION     OF    SWANSON 

That  instant,  insane  with  fright,  he  grasped  the 
astonished  officer  in  the  vise  of  his  great  hands,  swung 
him  into  the  air,  and  dashed  him  down  headlong  upon 
the  rocks.  Uttering  a  yell  like  that  of  some  wild 
animal,  the  fellow  was  off,  striking  against  Winston 
with  his  body  as  he  passed,  leaping  recklessly  across 
the  rocks,  heading  straight  toward  the  nearest  thicket. 
It  was  all  the  work  of  a  moment.  Farnham  whirled  and 
sent  one  shot  after  him ;  then,  as  suddenly  remember 
ing  his  own  peril,  wheeled  back  to  face  the  others,  the 
smoking  revolver  in  his  hand.  Amid  the  quick  turmoil 
old  Mike  sprang  to  the  summit  of  the  rock  rampart, 
his  face  flaming  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Go  it,  Swanska  !  "  he  yelled,  encouragingly.  "  Go 
it,  ye  crazy  white-head !  Be  the  powers,  but  it 's  the 
foinest  runnin'  Oi  Ve  sane  fer  a  whoile.  Saints  aloive  ! 
but  wud  ye  moind  thim  legs !  'T  was  a  kangaroo, 
begorry,  an'  not  a  monkey  he  come  from,  or  Oi  'm  a 
loiar.  Go  it,  Swanny,  ould  bye  !  Howly  St.  Patrick ! 
but  he  '11  be  out  o'  the  State  afore  dhark,  if  he  only 
kapes  it  up.  It 's  money  Oi  'm  bettin'  on  the 
Swade ! " 

Winston  stepped  swiftly  across  to  the  motionless 
sheriff,  and  knelt  down  beside  him,  his  face  gravely 
anxious.  The  unfortunate  man  lay  huddled  up, 
breathing  heavily,  his  head  bleeding  freely  from  two 
plainly  visible  wounds.  The  engineer  turned  him 
over,  one  hand  feeling  for  his  heart.  Slowly  the 
young  man  rose  to  his  feet,  standing  beside  the  body, 
his  gray  eyes  fastened  upon  Farnham.  Here  was  a 
condition  of  affairs  he  must  decide  upon  for  himself, 

[259] 


BETH    NORVELL 

decide  instantly,  decide  in  spite  of  law,  in  spite  of 
everything. 

"  He  appears  to  be  rather  badly  hurt ;  not  seriously,  I 
think,  but  the  man  is  unconscious,  and  in  no  condition 
to  be  removed,"  he  said,  managing  to  hold  his  voice 
to  a  strange  quiet.  "  I  consider  myself  his  prisoner, 
and  shall  remain  with  him  until  he  becomes  fit  to 
travel.  Farnham,  I  do  not  acknowledge  your  deputy- 
ship,  and  if  you  attempt  to  arrest  me  it  will  be  at  your 
peril.  There  are  four  of  us  here  against  you,  but 
we  '11  give  you  a  chance  —  go  back  to  your  own  !  Not 
a  word,  if  you  care  to  live  !  Go,  damn  you  —  go  !  " 

They  stood  and  watched  him,  until  his  slender 
figure  disappeared  behind  the  fringe  of  cedars.  Then 
Hicks  and  Winston,  neither  man  speaking  a  word, 
tenderly  lifted  the  wounded  sheriff  from  off  the  rocks, 
and  bore  him  back  into  the  shelter  of  the  cabin. 


[260] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  NEW  VOLUNTEER 

THE  desperate  seriousness  of  their  situation  was 
only  too  evident.  Both  men  recognized  this, 
yet  had  no  opportunity  then  to  reflect  over  its 
possibilities,  or  plan  for  relief.  Without  exchanging  a 
word,  except  as  related  to  their  present  labor,  the  two 
at  once  began  ministering  to  the  relief  of  Hayes,  con 
fident  that  Brown,  stationed  without,  would  guard 
vigorously  against  any  surprise  attack.  The  two 
wounds  upon  the  sheriff's  head  were  extremely  ugly 
in  appearance,  being  both  deep  and  jagged,  and  having 
bled  profusely.  However,  when  carefully  washed  and 
probed,  neither  proved  particularly  severe  or  dangerous. 
In  less  than  an  hour,  conscious  yet  exceedingly  weak 
and  becoming  somewhat  feverish,  the  injured  man, 
dazed  in  mind  but  fairly  comfortable  in  body,  had  been 
safely  stowed  away  in  a  bunk,  with  every  prospect  of  an 
early  recovery. 

Not  until  all  this  had  been  accomplished  did  his  anx 
ious  nurses  venture  to  look  thoughtfully  into  each 
others'  faces  and  take  direct  cognizance  of  their  own 
perilous  position.  Hicks  stepped  outside  into  the 
sunlight,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  off  his  face,  and 
a  moment  later  Winston  joined  him,  the  two  standing 
in  grave  silence,  gazing  off  toward  the  apparently 
deserted  "  Independence."  The  strain  of  the  past 


BETH    NORVELL 

night  and  day  had  plainly  marked  them  both,  yet  it 
was  not  exposure  and  toil  alone  that  gave  such  anxiety 
to  their  faces.  Finally  Hicks  turned  from  his  long 
scrutiny  and  glanced  back  toward  the  younger  man, 
stroking  his  goat's  beard  solemnly. 

"  Looks  ter  me  like  we  'd  managed  ter  drop  into  a 
mighty  bad  hole,  an'  was  up  agin  the  real  thing," 
he  began  gloomily,  yet  hastening  to  add  in  explanation, 
"  not  as  I  have  any  notion  o'  cavin',  you  onderstand, 
only  I  ain't  overly  pleased  with  the  situation,  an' 
thet  's  a  fact.  I  never  yit  objected  in  partic'lar  ter  no 
fair  fight,  not  o'  any  kind,  free  fer  all,  or  stan'  up, 
but  I  ain't  used  ter  buckin'  agin  the  law  nohow,  an' 
someway  thet  seems  ter  be  'bout  what  we  're  up  agin 
this  trip.  Beats  hell  the  way  things  turned  out,  don't 
it?" 

Winston  nodded  without  opening  his  lips.  He  was 
thinking  more  earnestly  about  Miss  Norvell's  unpleas 
ant  position  than  of  their  own,  yet  compelled  himself 
to  attention. 

"  Now,  this  yere  Farnham  is  a  gambler  an'  a  thief; 
he  's  all  round  crooked,  an'  we  've  got  a  cinch  on  him 
fer  the  penitentiary.  But  we  ain't  got  the  right  holt," 
the  old  miner  continued,  squinting  his  eyes  as  if  thus 
endeavoring  to  get  the  thought  firmly  lodged  in  his 
brain.  "He  's  ben  made  a  deputy  sheriflf.  He  kin  turn 
that  crowd  o'  toughs  over  thar  into  a  posse,  an'  come 
over  here  with  the  whole  law  o'  the  State  backin'  them 
in  any  deviltry  they  decide  on,  even  ter  killin'  off  the 
lot  o'  us  for  resistin'  officers.  Es  Sam  Hayes  said,  if 
we  shoot,  we  '11  be  a-shootin'  up  Gulpin  County.  An' 

[262] 


A    NEW    VOLUNTEER 

yet,  by  thunder,  we  Ve  plumb  got  ter  do  it,  er  git  off 
the  earth.  I  jest  don't  see  no  other  way.  Biff,  he 
won't  care  a  damn  how  he  gits  us,  so  he  gits  us  afore 
we  have  any  chance  ter  turn  the  tables  on  him,  an'  shift 
the  law  over  ter  our  side.  Hayes  can't  help  any,  fer 
he  's  out  o'  his  head.  Consequent,  it 's  up  ter  us. 
Thet  warrant  business,  an'  deputy  sheriff  racket,  was  a 
blame  smart  trick,  all  right.  It  would  'a'  corralled  us 
good  an'  proper  if  thet  fool  Swede  had  n't  run  amuck. 
Not  that  he  left  us  in  no  bed  o'  roses,  but,  at  least,  we 
got  a  fightin'  chance  now,  an'  afore  we  did  n't  have 
even  that.  I  was  inclined  ter  let  yer  surrender  to  the 
sheriff,  fer  Sam  Hayes  is  a  squar'  man,  but  not  ter 
Farnham  an'  his  gang  —  not  much,  Mary  Ann ! 
Thet  would  mean  lynchin',  an'  I  know  it.  So,  I  reckon 
we  jest  got  to  plug  it  out,  an'  trust  ter  luck.  Thet 's 
my  view-point,  but  ye  're  a  more  higher  edycated  man 
ner  me,  Mr.  Winston,  an'  maybe  you  kin  see  some 
other  way  out." 

The  old  man  sat  down  on  an  outcropping  stone, 
pulled  out  his  pipe  and  lit  it,  puffing  thick  rings  of 
smoke  into  the  air  with  manifest  enjoyment.  Winston 
did  not  answer  until  the  other  again  turned  his  eyes 
upon  him  questioningly. 

"  I  was  busy  thinking,"  explained  the  engineer, 
"  but  must  confess  the  situation  looks  about  as  bad  to 
me  as  it  does  to  you.  The  silver  lining  of  this  cloud 
is  not  apparent.  Of  course,  we  Ve  got  the  right  of  it, 
but  in  some  way  Fate  has  managed  to  leave  us  set 
square  against  the  law.  We  're  outlaws  without  hav 
ing  done  a  thing  to  warrant  it.  There  is  n't  but  one 


B  ETH    NORVELL 

possible  way  out,  and  that  is  for  us  to  get  on  the  right 
side  again.  Now,  how  can  it  be  done  ?  Some  one  of 
us  will  have  to  go  down  to  San  Juan,  before  those  fel 
lows  get  over  here  in  force,  swear  out  warrants  against 
Farnham  and  his  partners,  and  have  this  whole  affair 
probed  to  the  bottom.  We  Ve  got  them,  if  we  can  only 
get  the  ear  of  the  District  Attorney,  and  shift  this  fight 
into  the  courts-  The  trouble  is,  Farnham  was  smart 
enough  to  get  there  ahead  of  us,  and  he  '11  win  out  if  we 
don't  move  quick  and  block  him.  I  can't  go  myself, 
for  I  'm  a  prisoner,  and  must  remain  with  the  sheriff, 
or  will  be  considered  a  fugitive.  The  only  question  is, 
Can  any  one  hope  to  get  through  ?  " 

Hicks  permitted  his  gaze  to  stray  out  across  the  dim 
valley  below,  then  up  toward  the  ragged  summit  of 
the  overhanging  crest  of  rocks.  Through  the  smoke 
of  his  pipe  he  deliberately  surveyed  Stutter  Brown, 
perched  motionless  at  the  edge  of  his  watchtower,  a 
Winchester  silhouetted  black  against  the  stone. 

"  Not  down  thet  way,  anyhow,"  he  announced, 
finally,  pointing  with  his  pipe-stem.  "I  reckon  a  mos- 
quiter  could  n't  git  through  along  thet  trail  ternight. 
Ever  hear  tell  o'  Daggett  Station  ?  " 

Winston  rubbed  his  chin,  endeavoring  to  recall  the 
name. 

"  I  'm  not  sure.  Is  it  the  water-tank  and  section- 
house,  next  stop  below  Bolton  Junction,  on  the  main 
line?" 

"  You  Ve  called  the  turn.  Wai,  it 's  over  thar," 
pointing  apparently  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain, 
"straight  south,  twenty  miles  as  ther  crow  flies  from 

[264] 


A    NEW    VOLUNTEER 

the  foot  o'  this  rise,  across  as  barren  a  sand  waste  as 
ever  broke  a  man's  heart  —  nary  drop  o'  water  from 
start  ter  finish,  an*  hot  —  oh,  hell!"  He  paused, 
thinking.  "  But  I  hardly  reckon  them  people  would 
ever  think  'bout  guardin'  thet  way  out,  an'  a  good 
rider  could  make  it  easy  afore  daylight,  an*  catch  the 
train  East." 

"  How  do  you  get  down  ?  " 

"  Through  a  long,  twistin*  ravine ;  it 's  a  mean  place 
fer  travelling  an'  you  have  ter  lead  the  hoss  till  yer 
strike  the  sand." 

"  Ever  cross  there  yourself?  " 

"Wai,  no,"  stroking  his  beard;  "but  Stutter  come 
back  thet  way  onct,  from  a  hunt  or  something.  He 
never  said  nothin'  when  he  struck  in,  but  yer  could  'a' 
scraped  alkali  off  him  with  a  hoe,  an'  he  drunk  a 
whole  bucket  o'  water  without  takin'  breath.  So  I 
reckon  it  wa'n't  no  pleasure  jaunt." 

"  Then  it 's  got  to  be  Stutter,"  decided  Winston, 
rising  to  his  feet,  "  for  we  must  get  word  to  San  Juan. 
I  'm  going  inside  to  see  how  Hayes  is  feeling." 

"I  reckon  thet 's  the  ticket,"  agreed  Hicks, 
gloomily,  "but  I  'm  blamed  if  I  like  losin'  him.  He  's 
a  fightin'  man,  thet  Stutter,  after  he  onct  gits  his  blood 
stirred  up,  an'  I  'm  sorter  expectin'  a  lively  time  yere 
when  it  gits  dark.  It  '11  be  Farnham's  last  chance  ter 
put  us  out  o'  the  way,  an'  he  's  likely  ter  take  it. 
I  '11  bet  Stutter  won't  go,  leastwise  without  the  gal ; 
he  's  nat'ral  bull-headed,  besides  bein'  in  love.  Thet 
makes  an  ornery  combination." 

Within  the  cabin,  the  door  closed  behind  him,  the 

[265] 


BETH    NORVELL 

single  small  window  shedding  a  dim  light  across  the 
apartment,  Winston  turned,  his  hand  still  upon  the 
latch,  and  confronted  Beth  Norvell  and  Mercedes. 
Their  presence  there  was  so  unexpected  that  the  young 
man  paused  in  sudden  embarrassment,  ready  words  fail 
ing  him.  The  two  were  seated  close  together  on  rude 
stools  beneath  the  window,  where  they  had  evidently 
been  in  intimate  conversation.  The  former,  her  gaze 
lowered  upon  the  floor,  did  not  glance  up ;  but  Mer 
cedes  flashed  her  black  eyes  into  his  face,  recognizing 
his  confusion,  and  hastening  to  relieve  it.  Warm 
hearted,  impulsive,  already  beginning  to  experience 
the  value  of  true  love,  the  young  Mexican  was  eager 
to  bring  these  two  into  a  better  understanding.  Her 
quick  smile  of  welcome  swept  away  for  an  instant  all 
memory  of  the  other's  apparent  indifference. 

"  Ah,  eet  vas  good  you  come,  senor.  See,  ve  shut 
up  here  like  prisoners ;  ve  see  nottings,  ve  hear 
nottings,  ve  know  nottings.  Now  ve  make  you  tell  us 
eet  all,  de  whole  story.  Miladi  here,  she  tink  eet  all 
ver'  bad ;  she  cry,  de  tear  yet  in  her  eye,  an'  I  know 
not  vat  to  tell  to  make  her  feel  bettah.  She  'fraid  for 
ever'ting,  but  most  I  tink,  she  'fraid  for  you,  senor." 

Miss  Norvell  hastily  laid  her  hand  upon  the  girl's 
sleeve  in  remonstrance,  her  face  showing  grave  in  the 
dim  light. 

"  No,  no,  Mercedes ;  you  must  not  say  too  much, 
or  Mr.  Winston  will  think  us  both  very  foolish." 

"  Eet  vas  not  foolish  for  us  to  vant  to  know,  vas 
eet,  senor?" 

"Assuredly  not."  He  walked  across  the  narrow 
[266] 


A     NEW    VOLUNTEER 

room,  glanced  into  the  face  of  the  sleeping  sheriff,  came 
back  beside  them,  and  leaned  against  the  wall.  The 
movement  served  to  yield  him  confidence  and  self- 
control,  to  decide  him  as  to  his  future  course.  "  What 
is  it  you  are  so  desirous  of  knowing?" 

"  Vy,  de  whole  ting,  senor,  de  whole  ting." 

He  gazed  directly  into  the  partially  upturned  face 
of  the  other,  as  though  urging  her  also  to  speak. 

"  We  do  not  in  the  least  comprehend  the  situation 
here,  Mr.  Winston,"  she  responded,  her  voice  low  and 
steady.  "  No  one  has  taken  the  trouble  to  explain. 
We  realize,  of  course,  it  must  be  serious,  but  possibly 
the  strain  would  prove  less  if  we  understood  clearly 
what  must  be  met." 

The  engineer  bowed,  drawing  toward  him  an  empty 
cracker-box,  and  sat  down  facing  them  both. 

"  I  will  relate  the  circumstances  to  you  in  all  their 
unpleasantness,"  he  began  quietly.  "  Perhaps  your 
woman  wit  may  discover  some  loophole  which  has 
escaped  us."  Clearly,  yet  rapidly,  he  reviewed  the 
salient  points  of  the  controversy  between  Farnham  and 
the  "  Little  Yankee,"  his  own  brief  connection  with  it, 
the  discoveries  made  in  the  lower  levels  of  the 
"  Independence,"  his  desperate  struggle  with  Burke, 
the  swearing  out  and  serving  of  warrants,  the  sudden 
change  in  situation  which  had  placed  them  legally  in 
the  wrong,  the  accident  to  the  sheriff,  the  curt 
dismissal  of  his  deputy,  and  the  probable  consequences. 
His  voice  grew  deep  as  he  proceeded,  marking  the 
intense  interest  with  which  they  followed  his  recital. 
Then  he  unfolded  briefly  the  plan  adopted  for  relief. 


BETH    NORVELL 

It  was  the  impulsive  Mexican  who  broke  the  silence 
that  followed  his  conclusion. 

"Si,  I  see  dat!"  she  exclaimed,  leaning  eagerly 
forward,  her  head  between  her  hands.  "  Eet  vas  ver' 
good  vay.  But  you  tink  dar  be  fight  soon  ?  You  tink 
so  ?  Beell,  he  tink  so  ?  Den  you  no  like  dat  de  Senor 
Brown  be  avay  ?  No,  no,  you  no  like  be  lef '  alone 
ven  de  fight  come  ?  He  big,  strong,  brav' ;  he  bettah 
as  ten  men,  hey  ?  Eet  vas  so,  I  tell  you.  I  go  vis  de 
message,  si ;  Senor  Brown  he  stay  here.  Vould  not 
dat  be  de  bettah  ?  " 

Winston  shifted  uneasily  upon  his  cracker-box,  his 
gaze  wandering  from  the  animated  face  confronting 
him  to  that  of  the  other  farther  back  amid  the  shadows, 
still  grave  and  full  of  doubt. 

"  You  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "  Surely  you  do 
not  suppose  we  would  ever  permit  you  to  attempt  such 
a  thing." 

"  No  ?  An'  vy  not,  senor  ? "  springing  impul 
sively  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  opening  wide.  "  Maybe 
you  tink  I  not  know  how  ride  ?  Maybe  you  tink  I 
vas  'fraid  of  de  dark  ?  or  dat  I  lose  my  vay  ?  You 
tink  me  leetle  girl,"  and  she  snapped  her  fingers 
indignantly.  "Do  dat?  Of  course  I  do  dat !  Sapristi! 
Eet  vas  easy,  just  ride  twenty  mile.  Bah  !  I  do  dat 
lots  o'  times.  My  pony  he  take  me  in  tree,  four  hour 
sure.  He  nice  pony,  an'  he  lofe  Mercedes." 

"  But  you  do  not  know  the  way,  girl,  and  the  ride 
must  be  made  at  night." 

"  De  vay  —  poof!  You  speak  ver'  foolish.  De 
vay?  —  you  tink  I  cannot  find  de  vay!  Vy,  I 

[268] 


A     NEW    VOLUNTEER 

Mexicana,  senor;  I  know  de  vay  of  de  desert;  I  read 
de  sign  here,  dar,  everyvere,  like  miladi  does  de  book. 
I  know  how  ;  si,  si.  Senor  Brown  he  show  me  how 
get  down  de  side  of  de  mountain,  den  I  know  de  res'. 
Twenty  mile  south  to  de  rail ;  I  read  de  stars,  I  feel  de 
wind,  I  give  de  pony  de  quirt,  and  it  vas  done  — 
buenol " 

Winston  sat  silently  watching  her,  impressed  by  the 
earnestness  of  her  broken  English,  the  eloquent  energy 
of  her  gesticulations. 

"  Vas  dat  not  de  bettah  vay,  senor  ?  I  no  good 
here ;  I  just  girl  in  de  vay,  an'  ven  de  fight  come 
maybe  I  be  'fraid.  But  Senor  Brown  he  not  git  'fraid  ; 
he  fight  hard,  more  as  ten  men.  So  I  help  too  ;  I  just 
ride  de  pony,  but  I  help.  I  go  San  Juan ;  I  see  de 
Distric'  Attorney."  She  clapped  her  hands,  laughing  at 
the  thought.  "  Si,  I  know  de  Distric'  Attorney  ver' 
veil.  He  tink  Mercedes  ver'  nice  girl ;  he  tink  I 
dance  bettah  as  any  he  ever  saw;  he  say  so  to  me. 
He  do  vat  Mercedes  vant,  vat  she  say  vas  de  right 
ting  —  sure  he  do.  Vas  dat  not  de  bettah,  senor?" 

"  Possibly,"  yet  secretly  questioning  her  motives, 
"but  —  but  really,  you  know,  I  always  supposed  you 
to  be  a  friend  of  Farnham's  !  " 

The  girl  instantly  flushed  crimson  to  the  roots  of 
her  black  hair,  bringing  her  hands  together  sharply, 
her  eyes  straying  from  Winston  to  the  suddenly  uplifted 
face  of  Miss  Norvell. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  at  last,  her  voice  softer.  "He 
vas  not  to  me  anyting  !  She  know  how  it  vas  ;  maybe 
she  tell  you  sometime.  Not  now,  but  sometime. 


BETH    NORVELL 

I  jus'  vant  do  right.  I  vant  serve  Senor  Brown,  not 
dat  Farnham  no  more.  No,  no  !  once,  maybe,  I  tink 
dat  man  ver'  nice;  I  tink  him  good  friend;  he  say 
much  promise  Mercedes.  Now  I  tink  dat  no  more 
—  I  know  he  lie  all  de  time ;  I  see  tings  as  dey  vas 
right,  an'  I  try  be  good  girl.  You  sabe  all  dat, 
senor?" 

"  I  understand  some  of  it  at  least,"  and  he  smiled 
back  into  her  pleading  eyes,  "enough  to  trust  you. 
If  Hicks  and  Brown  consent,  your  going  will  be  all 
right  with  me." 

"  Bueno ! "  and  she  dropped  him  a  deep  Spanish 
courtesy,  executing  a  quick  dancing  step  toward  the 
door.  "Den  eet  vill  be  so.  I  no  'fraid.  I  go  see  dem 
both.  Adios" 

The  door  opened,  and  she  flashed  forth  into  the 
fading  sunlight ;  it  closed  behind  her,  and  left  the  two 
alone  among  the  shadows. 


[270] 


AN  AVOWAL  OF  LOVE 

WINSTON  sat  gazing  at  the  delicate  contour 
of  her  face,  partially  turned  away  from  him, 
the  long,  silken  lashes  shading  eyes  lowered 
upon   the   floor.     A   single   gleam    of  the    westering 
sun    rested    in    golden   beauty   across  her   dark   hair, 
stirred   by    the    slight   breeze    blowing    through    the 
open  window.     In  the  silence  he  could  hear  his  heart 
beat,  and  distinguish  the  faint  sound  of  her  breath 
ing.     She  was  the  first  to  speak,  yet  without  moving 
her  head. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  are  now  under  arrest?"  she 
questioned,  her  voice  scarcely  audible. 

"  Technically  yes,  although,  as  you  may  perceive,  the 
sheriff  is  powerless  to  prevent  an  escape  if  I  desired 
to  attempt  one." 

"  Is  it  because  of  that  —  that  charge  he  made?" 

He  arose  to  his  feet  in  brave  attempt  at  self-control. 

"  Oh,  no,  certainly  not !  I  think  that  was  merely  a 
threat,  a  cowardly  threat,  utterly  without  provocation, 
without  purpose,  unless  he  sought  in  that  way  to  work 
you  a  serious  injury.  The  real  charge  against  me  is 
murder.  It  appears  that  the  man  I  fought  with  in  the 
mine  later  died  from  his  injuries." 

She  turned  both  face  and  body  toward  him,  her  eyes 
filled  with  agony. 

[271] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  The  man  died  ?  Will  it  be  possible  for  you  to 
prove  yourself  innocent  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  possible,  but  it  does  not  appear  easy. 
I  hope  to  show  that  all  I  did  was  in  self-defence.  I 
did  not  strike  the  man  a  deadly  blow ;  in  the  struggle 
he  fell  and  was  injured  on  the  sharp  rocks.  In  every 
sense  his  death  was  unintentional,  yet  there  is  nothing 
to  sustain  me  but  my  own  testimony.  But  I  shall  not 
flee  from  the  issue.  If  I  have  taken  human  life  I  will 
abide  the  judgment.  God  knows  I  never  dreamed  of 
killing  the  man ;  never  once  supposed  him  seriously 
injured.  You,  at  least,  believe  this  ?  " 

"  I  believe  all  you  tell  me." 

The  man's  grasp  on  the  casing  of  the  window  tight 
ened,  his  eyes  upon  the  mass  of  black  hair. 

"  Strangely  enough,"  he  continued,  "  this  whole 
affair  has  gone  wrong  from  the  start ;  nothing  has 
turned  out  in  the  natural  way.  Criminals  have  been 
made  into  officers  of  the  law,  and  honest  men  changed 
into  outlaws.  Now  it  seems  impossible  to  conjecture 
how  the  adventure  will  terminate." 

She  sat  looking  up  at  him,  scarcely  seeing  his  face, 
her  hands  clasped  in  her  lap. 

" c  All  the  world  's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men  and 
women  merely  players,'  "  she  said,  quoting  the  familiar 
words  as  if  in  a  dream.  "We  are  such  puppets  in  the 
great  play  !  How  strange  it  all  is  !  How  dangerously 
close  real  life  is,  always  skirting  the  precipice  of  tragedy ! 
Plans  fail,  lines  tangle,  and  lives  are  changed  forever 
by  events  seemingly  insignificant.  To-morrow  is 
always  mystery.  I  wonder,  is  it  not  a  dim  consciousness 


AN    AVOWAL    OF    LOVE 

of  this  that  renders  the  stage  so  attractive  to  the 
multitude  ?  Even  its  burlesques,  its  lurid  melodramas, 
are  never  utterly  beyond  the  possible.  Everywhere 
are  found  stranger  stories  than  any  romancer  can 
invent ;  and  yet  we  sometimes  term  our  lives  common 
place."  She  leaned  back  against  the  wall,  a  sob  com 
ing  into  her  voice.  "What  —  what  is  going  to  be  the 
end  of  this  —  for  me  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  will,"  he  exclaimed  passionately, 
forgetful  of  all  but  her  power  over  him.  "  It  is  you 
who  must  choose." 

"Yes,  it  is  I  who  must  choose,"  her  face  still 
uplifted.  "  Because  I  am  not  a  leaf  to  float  on  the 
air,  my  destiny  decided  by  a  breath  of  wind,  I  must 
choose ;  yet  how  can  I  know  I  decide  rightly  ?  When 
heart  and  conscience  stand  opposed,  any  decision 
means  sacrifice  and  pain.  I  meant  those  hasty  words 
wrung  out  of  me  in  shame,  and  spoken  yonder;  I 
meant  them  then,  and  yet  they  haunt  me  like  so  many 
sheeted  ghosts.  'Tis  not  their  untruth,  but  the 
thought  will  not  down  that  the  real  cause  of  their 
utterance  was  not  the  wrong  done  me.  It  had  other 
birth." 

"In  what?" 

She  did  not  in  the  least  hesitate  to  answer,  her  eyes 
clear  and  honest  upon  his  own. 

"In  my  love  for  you,"  she  answered,  quietly,  her 
cheeks  reddening  to  the  frank  avowal. 

He  grasped  her  hands,  drawing  her,  unresisting, 
toward  him. 

"You  confess  this  to  me?  " 

[273] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  Yes,  to  you ;  but  to  you  only  because  I  trust  you, 
because  I  know  you  as  an  honorable  man,"  she  said, 
speaking  with  an  earnest  simplicity  irresistible.  "  I 
am  not  ashamed  of  the  truth,  not  afraid  to  acknowledge 
it  frankly.  If  there  be  wrong  in  this,  that  wrong  has 
already  been  accomplished ;  the  mere  uttering  of  it 
cannot  harm  either  of  us.  We  know  the  fact  without 
words.  I  love  you ;  with  all  my  heart  I  love  you.  I 
can  say  this  to  you  here  in  the  silence,  yet  I  could  not 
speak  it  openly  before  the  world.  Why  ?  Because 
such  love  is  wrong  ?  Under  God  I  do  not  know ; 
only,  the  world  would  misunderstand,  would  question 
my  motives,  would  misjudge  my  faith.  By  the  code 
I  am  not  the  mistress  of  my  heart;  it  has  been  legally 
surrendered.  But  you  will  not  misjudge,  or  question. 
If  I  could  not  trust,  I  could  not  love  you ;  I  do  both. 
Now  and  here,  I  put  my  hands  in  yours,  I  place  my 
life,  my  conscience,  in  your  keeping.  For  good  or 
evil,  for  heaven  or  hell,  I  yield  to  you  my  faith.  Tell 
me  what  I  am  utterly  unable  to  decide  for  myself 
alone  :  What  is  my  duty,  the  duty  of  a  woman  situated 
as  I  am  ?  " 

He  held  her  hands  still,  crushing  them  within  his 
own,  yet  the  color,  the  hope  which  had  brightened  his 
face,  faded.  A  moment  the  two  sat  silent,  their  eyes 
meeting,  searching  the  depths. 

"  Beth,"  he  asked  at  last,  "  is  this  right  ?  " 

"  Is  what  right  ? " 

"  That  you  should  cast  such  a  burden  upon  me.  I 
told  you  I  could  not  be  your  conscience.  All  my 
desire,  all  my  hope  tends  in  one  direction.  That 

[>74] 


AN    AVOWAL    OF    LOVE 

which  to  you  appears  wrong,  to  me  seems  the  only 
right  course.  My  heart  responded  eagerly  to  every 
word  of  renunciation  spoken  out  there  in  your  indigna 
tion.  They  were  just  and  true.  They  gave  me  cour 
age  to  believe  the  battle  was  over;  that  in  soul  and 
heart  you  were  at  last  free." 

She  lowered  her  eyes  in  confusion  to  the  floor,  her 
bosom  rising  and  falling  to  quick  breathing. 

"  And  now  you  discover  me  hesitating,  undecided," 
she  whispered,  her  lips  trembling.  "  I  know  I  am ; 
there  are  moments  when  I  hold  myself  unworthy  of 
love.  Yet  believe  me,  I  am  honest,  sincere,  unselfish 
in  all  my  thought  regarding  you.  Perhaps  the  trouble 
is  that  I  know  myself,  my  nature,  far  too  well ;  I  dare 
not  trust  it  to  bring  you  happiness,  unless  I  can  come 
to  you  with  unsullied  conscience." 

"  Is  it  thought  of  divorce  which  yet  remains  so 
repugnant? " 

She  glanced  up  into  his  questioning  face,  her  own 
cheeks  flushing. 

"  I  shrink  from  it  in  actual  pain,"  she  confessed, 
in  instant  frankness.  "  My  whole  nature  revolts. 
Believe  me,  I  am  not  blind,  not  insensible ;  I  recognize 
the  truth  —  all  you  would  tell  me — of  the  inalienable 
rights  of  womanhood.  Neglect,  distrust,  brutality, 
open  insult  have  all  been  my  portion.  The  thousands 
all  over  the  world  accept  these  as  worthy  reasons  for 
breaking  their  marriage  vows.  But  can  I  ?  Can  I, 
who  have  ever  condemned  those  others  for  doing  so  ? 
Can  I,  who  have  ever  held  that  sacrament  to  be  sacred 
and  enduring?  And  I  realize  that  the  temptation  has 

[>75] 


BETH    NORVELL 

not  come  because  of  the  wrongs  done  to  me.  He  has 
been  all  this  before,  many,  many  times,  yet  I  have 
remained  true  and  loyal,  not  questioning  my  duty.  It 
is  the  birth  of  a  new  love  —  God  alone  knows  if  I 
should  say  a  guilty  love  —  which  has  thus  changed  me, 
which  has  brought  to  my  mind  dreams  of  release.  I 
pray  you,  try  to  understand  me  !  How  could  happiness 
ever  prove  my  portion,  or  yours  through  me,  while 
such  questionings  continued  to  haunt  my  soul  like 
ghosts  ? " 

He  released  her  clinging  hands,  turning  away  from 
her,  his  eyes  staring  unseeing  out  of  the  window.  A 
moment  she  continued  looking  at  him,  her  dry  eyes 
anxiously  pleading.  Then  she  buried  her  face  within 
her  hands  and  waited,  her  whole  body  trembling. 
Twice  Winston  sought  to  speak,  before  sufficient  cour 
age  came  to  him  to  allow  of  his  turning  back,  and 
looking  down  upon  her  bowed  figure. 

"  Beth,"  he  said  at  last,  his  struggle  revealed  in  his 
voice,  "  I  should  not  be  worthy  that  love  you  have 
given  me  so  unreservedly,  did  I  stoop  now  to  its  abuse. 
I  could  never  forgive  myself  were  I  to  urge  you  to  do 
that  which  your  conscience  so  clearly  condemns.  To 
me  there  is  a  marriage  far  more  sacred  and  enduring 
than  any  witnessed  by  man,  or  solemnized  by  formal 
service — the  secret  union  of  hearts.  We  are  one  in 
this,  and  nothing  can  ever  come  between  us.  Then 
let  all  else  wait;  let  it  wait  until  God  shall  open  a  way 
along  which  we  may  walk  in  honor.  Mutual  sacrifice 
can  never  make  us  any  less  dear  to  each  other.  This 
condition  may  serve  to  separate  us  for  a  while,  yet  I 

[276] 


AN    AVOWAL    OF    LOVE 

believe  the  path  will  open,  and  that  you  will  learn  to 
perceive  your  duty  from  a  broader  view-point  —  one 
that  will  permit  you  to  find  happiness  in  true  love, 
unhaunted  by  any  memory  of  the  false." 

She  arose  slowly  to  her  feet,  the  tears  clinging  to  her 
lashes,  both  hands  outstretched. 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you  !  I  thank  you  !  "  she  exclaimed 
with  deep  fervor.  "  Those  words  prove  you  all  I  ever 
believed  you  to  be.  They  give  me  hope,  courage, 
patience  to  remain  true  to  myself,  true  to  my  lifelong 
ideals  of  womanhood.  I  am  certain  you  trust  me, 
comprehend  my  motives,  and  will  think  no  less  of  me 
because  of  my  unwillingness  to  forfeit  a  conception  of 
right.  He  is  absolutely  nothing  to  me  —  nothing. 
He  never  could  be.  There  are  times  when  I  feel 
that  his  death  even  could  not  fitly  atone  for  the  evil 
he  has  wrought  me.  Never  again  will  his  influence 
touch  my  life  to  change  its  purpose.  It  is  not  he  that 
keeps  us  apart ;  it  is  a  solemn,  sacred  pledge  made  by 
a  trusting  girl  in  God's  presence  —  a  pledge  I  cannot 
forget,  cannot  break  without  forfeiting  my  self-respect, 
my  honor." 

He  drew  her  gently  to  him,  his  eyes  no  longer  filled 
with  passion,  yet  containing  a  depth  of  love  that  left 
her  helpless  to  resist  his  will. 

"  Beth,  dear,"  he  whispered,  his  lips  almost  pressing 
her  cheek,  "  I  will  not  think  of  him,  but  only  of  you. 
If  you  love  me  I  am  content.  The  mere  knowledge 
itself  is  happiness.  Tell  me  once  again  that  this  is 
true." 

"  It  is  true,  forever  true  ;  I  love  you." 

l>77] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  May  I  have  for  this  one  time  the  pledge  of  your 
lips?" 

A  single  instant  she  seemed  to  hesitate,  her  cheeks 
flushing  hotly,  her  dark  eyes  lowered  before  his.  But 
she  lifted  her  face,  and  their  lips  met  and  clung,  as 
though  parting  must  be  forever.  Amid  the  closely 
gathering  shadows  he  led  her  back  to  the  vacated  stool, 
and  stood  beside  her,  gently  stroking  the  soft  dark 
hair  of  the  bowed  head. 

"  You  have  plans  ? "  he  questioned  quietly.  "  You 
have  decided  how  you  are  to  live  while  we  await  each 
other?" 

"Yes,"  half  timidly,  as  though  fearful  he  might 
oppose  her  decision.  "  I  believe  I  had  better  return 
to  my  work  upon  the  stage."  She  glanced  up  at  him 
anxiously.  "You  do  not  care,  do  you?  It  seems  to 
me  I  am  best  fitted  for  that ;  I  have  ambition  to  suc 
ceed,  and  —  and  it  affords  me  something  worthy  to 
think  about." 

"  I  recall  you  said  once  it  would  be  a  poor  love  which 
should  interfere  with  the  ideals  of  another." 

"Yes,  I  remember.  How  long  ago  that  seems,  and 
what  a  change  has  since  come  over  my  conceptions  of 
the  power  of  love !  I  believe  it  still,  yet  in  so  different 
a  way.  Now  I  would  surrender  gladly  all  ambition, 
all  dream  of  worldly  success,  merely  to  be  alone  with 
the  man  I  love,  and  bring  him  happiness.  That  — 
that  is  all  I  want;  it  is  everything." 

"And  some  day  it  shall  be  yours,"  he  declared 
stoutly.  "Some  day  when  you  comprehend  that 
divorce  is  not  always  the  evil  that  some  delight  to 


AN    AVOWAL    OF     LOVE 

proclaim  it ;  some  day  when  you  realize  that  it  must 
be  a  far  greater  sin  to  wreck  irretrievably  your  own  life 
for  a  brute  than  to  break  those  man-made  bonds  which 
bind  you  to  him.  It  cannot  be  long  until  you  learn 
this,  for  all  nature  condemns  so  unholy  an  alliance. 
Until  then  let  it  be  the  stage  ;  only  I  ask  you  to  strive 
for  the  very  best  it  offers.  Have  confidence  in  your 
self,  little  girl,  in  your  ability,  your  power,  your  spark 
of  genius  touched  by  suffering.  Every  hour  you  pass 
now  in  hideous,  misshapen  melodrama  is  worse  than 
wasted.  You  have  that  within  you  well  worthy  of 
better  setting,  nobler  environment,  and  you  wrong 
yourself  to  remain  content  with  less.  You  are  mine 
now  wherever  you  go,  whatever  triumphs  you  win ; 
mine  in  spite  of  the  law,  because  I  possess  your  heart. 
I  should  doubt  myself  far  sooner  than  ever  question  your 
loyalty.  I  can  lend  you  to  the  stage  for  a  while — until 
I  come  for  you  in  that  glad  hour  when  your  lips  shall 
bid  me — but  in  the  meantime  I  want  you  to  be  true  to 
yourself,  to  the  spirit  of  art  within  you.  I  want  you  to 
accomplish  the  highest  purposes  of  your  dreams ;  to  in 
terpret  that  in  life  which  is  worthy  of  interpretation." 

"  You  believe  I  can  ?  " 

"  I  know  you  can.  Never  from  that  first  night, 
when  I  stood  in  the  wings  and  watched,  have  I  ever 
questioned  the  possibilities  of  your  future.  You  have 
art,  emotion,  depth  of  true  feeling,  application,  a  clear 
understanding  of  character  —  all  that  ever  made  any 
actress  great.  I  love  you,  Beth ;  yet  mine  is  a  love 
too  unselfish  not  to  tell  you  this  truth  and  stand  aside 
rather  than  block  your  future." 

[279] 


She  lifted  her  eyes  to  him,  now  cleared  of  their 
tears,  and  shining  with  eagerness. 

"  I  will  do  all  you  say,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  do  it 
because  I  love  you.  It  shall  not  be  for  the  people,  the 
applause,  the  glitter  and  display,  but  alone  for  you. 
Whenever  a  triumph  comes  to  me,  I  shall  meet  it 
whispering  your  name  in  my  heart,  knowing  that  you 
rejoice  because  I  am  proving  worthy  of  your  faith.  It 
will  be  as  if  we  worked  together ;  the  memory  must 
help  to  make  us  both  strong." 

He  bent  lower,  drew  her  closer  to  him,  and  held  her 
thus  in  silence. 

"  Yes,"  he  spoke  at  last,  as  though  in  thought,  "  I 
shall  try  to  remember  and  be  patient,  so  long  as  you 
feel  it  must  be  so." 

They  were  sitting  there  still,  the  barest  glimmer  of 
twilight  brightening  the  window  above,  their  hands 
clasped,  when  Mercedes  came  back,  overflowing  with 
light-heartedness. 

"  Si,  si,  sure  I  did  eet,"  she  announced  happily, 
dancing  forward  into  the  centre  of  the  darkened  room, 
and  seemingly  blind  to  the  two  before  her.  "  Eet  ees 
I  that  am  to  ride.  Bueno !  eet  vill  be  mooch  fun ! 
Senor  Brown  he  not  like  let  me  go ;  he  tink  I  do  all 
eet  for  him.  Oh,  de  conceit  of  de  men,  ven  I  care  not 
for  anyting  but  de  fun,  de  good  time  !  But  I  talk  him 
long  vile,  an'  Beell  he  talk,  an'  maybe  he  say  si  for 
to  git  us  rid  of.  Tink  you  not  eet  vas  so,  senor?  " 


[280] 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  PROOF  OF  LOVE 

THE  dreaded  night  settled  down  dark  but  clear, 
a  myriad  of  stars  gloriously  bright  in  the  vast 
vault  overhead,  the  clinging  shadows  black  and 
gloomy  along  the  tree-fringed  ridge.  Nature,  hushed 
into  repose,  appeared  alone  in  possession,  the  solemn 
silence  of  peaceful  night  enveloping  the  vast  canyon 
and  its  overhanging  mountains.  Amid  the  gathering 
gloom  all  animate  life  seemed  to  have  sought  rest,  to 
have  found  covert.  The  last  glimpse  which  the 
watchful  guardians  of  the  "  Little  Yankee"  gained  of 
the  surroundings  of  the  "Independence"  revealed 
nothing  to  awaken  immediate  alarm.  A  few  men  idly 
came  and  went  about  the  shaft-house  and  ore-dump, 
but  otherwise  the  entire  claim  appeared  deserted.  No 
hostile  demonstration  of  any  kind  had  been  attempted 
since  Farnham's  retreat,  and  now  no  sign  of  con 
templated  attack  was  to  be  perceived.  The  large 
number  of  men  visible  earlier  in  the  day  had 
mysteriously  disappeared  ;  not  even  the  searching  field- 
glasses  served  to  reveal  their  whereabouts.  In  the 
gathering  darkness  no  lights  bore  witness  to  the 
slightest  activity ;  everywhere  it  remained  black  and 
silent. 

To  those  wearied  men  on  guard  this  secrecy  seemed 
ominous  of  approaching  evil.      They   comprehended 

[28,] 


BETH    NORVELL 

too  clearly  the  vengeful  nature  of  their  enemy  to  be 
lulled  thus  into  any  false  security.  Such  skulking 
could  be  accepted  only  as  a  symptom  of  treachery,  of 
some  deep-laid  plan  for  surprise.  But  what  ?  Would 
Farnham,  in  his  desperation,  his  anxiety  to  cover  up 
all  evidences  of  crime,  resort  to  strategy,  or  to  force  ? 
Would  he  utilize  the  law,  behind  which  he  was  now 
firmly  entrenched,  or  would  he  rely  entirely  upon  the 
numbers  he  controlled  to  achieve  a  surer,  quicker 
victory  ?  That  he  possessed  men  in  plenty  to  work 
his  will  the  defenders  of  the  "  Little  Yankee  "  knew 
from  observation.  These  were  of  the  kind  to  whom 
fighting  was  a  trade.  They  must  be  there  yet,  hiding 
somewhere  in  the  chaparral,  for  none  had  retreated 
down  the  trail.  Backed  by  the  mandates  of  law,  con 
vinced  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  legally,  that  they 
were  merely  executing  the  decrees  of  court,  they  would 
hardly  be  likely  to  hesitate  at  the  committal  of  any 
atrocity  under  such  a  leader.  But  where  would  they 
strike,  and  how  ?  What  could  be  the  purpose  of  their 
delay  ?  the  object  of  their  secrecy  ?  That  there 
must  be  both  purpose  and  object  could  not  be  doubted  ; 
yet  nothing  remained  but  to  wait  for  their  revelation. 
An  obscuring  mist  hung  over  the  canyon,  stretching 
from  wall  to  wall.  Beneath  the  revealing  starlight  it 
was  like  looking  down  upon  a  restless,  silent  expanse 
of  gray  sea.  A  stray  breath  of  air  came  sucking  up 
the  gorge,  causing  the  many  spectral  trees  outlined 
against  the  lighter  sky  to  wave  their  branches,  the 
leaves  rustling  as  though  swept  by  rain.  There  was 
a  faint  moaning  among  the  distant  rocks  as  if  hidden 

[282] 


THE    PROOF    OF    LOVE 

caverns  were  filled  with  elves  at  play.  It  was  weird, 
lonely,  desolate, — straining  eyes  beholding  everywhere 
the  same  scene  of  deserted  wilderness. 

Old  Hicks  lay  flat  under  protection  of  the  ore-dump, 
his  ear  pressed  close  to  the  earth,  his  contracted  eyes 
searching  anxiously  those  dark  hollows  in  front,  a 
Winchester,  cocked  and  ready,  within  the  grasp  of  his 
hand.  Above,  Irish  Mike,  sniffing  the  air  as  though 
he  could  smell  danger  like  a  pointer  dog,  hung  far  out 
across  the  parapet  of  rock,  every  eager  nerve  tingling 
in  the  hope  of  coming  battle.  Winston  remained  in 
the  cabin  door,  behind  him  the  open  room  black  and 
silent,  his  loaded  Winchester  between  his  feet,  gamely 
struggling  to  overcome  a  vague  foreboding  of  impend 
ing  trouble,  yet  alert  and  ready  to  bear  his  part.  It 
was  then  that  Stutter  Brown  led  the  saddled  pony 
forward  from  out  the  concealment  of  bushes.  The 
long  awaited  moment  had  come  for  action.  To  his 
whispered  word,  Mercedes  fluttered  promptly  forth 
through  the  shadowed  doorway,  and  pressed  her  face 
lovingly  against  the  pony's  quickly  uplifted  nose. 

"  See,"  she  whispered,  patting  Brown's  brawny  arm 
even  while  she  continued  toying  playfully  with  the  silken 
mane,  "  he  know  me,  he  lofe  me.  He  bettah  as  any 
man,  for  he  nevah  tell  lie, —  nevah, —  only  be  nice  all  de 
time.  He  ride  me  till  he  drop  dead,  swift,  quick,  like 
de  bird  fly.  So  I  make  eet  all  right,  senor.  You  see 
ven  de  daylight  come  I  be  San  Juan.  Den  I  make 
mooch  fun  for  de  Senor  Farnham  —  sure  I  do." 

"  I-I  reckon  you  '11  m-make  it  all  right,  1-1-little 
girl,"  answered  the  man  regretfully,  his  voice  hushed  to 


BETH    NORVELL 

a  low  growl,  "b-but  jest  the  same  I  a-ain't  so  darn 
g-g-glad  ter  1-let  yer  go.  H-hanged  ef  I  would,  either, 
if  I  d-did  n't  th-think  the  toughest  part  o'  it  wus 
g-goin'  ter  be  right  yere." 

She  glanced  almost  shyly  up  into  his  shadowed  face, 
her  black  eyes  like  stars. 

"Si  —  dat  vas  eet.  I  vas  de  coward;  I  just  runs 
avay  so  'fraid  of  de  fight.  I  no  like  de  fight  von  leetle 
bit.  But  I  know  you,  senor;  you  vant  to  stay  here,  an' 
have  de  fun.  You  Americano  an'  like  dat  ver'  mooch. 
I  feel  of  de  big  arm,  so,  an'  I  know  eet  ees  bettah  dat 
you  be  here.  I  mooch  like  please  you,  sefior." 

He  clasped  her  hand  where  it  rested  small  and  white 
against  his  sleeve,  hiding  it  completely  within  his  own 
great  fist ;  when  he  spoke  she  could  mark  the  tremble 
in  the  deep  voice. 

"Y-you're  a  m-mighty  fine  girl,"  he  managed  to 
say,  simply,  "but  we  g-got  ter  go  now.  I-I  reckon 
yer  b-b-better  walk  fer  a  ways,  as  the  p-pony  will  step 
lighter." 

"  I  not  care,  sefior,"  softly.  "  Eet  be  nice  to  valk ; 
I  nevah  'fraid  vid  you." 

Brown  led  the  way  forward  cautiously  across  the  open 
space,  one  strong  hand  firm  on  the  pony's  bit,  the 
other  barely  touching  her  dress  as  though  it  were 
something  sacred.  She  endeavored  to  discern  his  face  in 
the  faint  starlight,  but  the  low-drawn  hat  brim  shaded 
it  into  black  lines,  revealing  nothing.  The  light,  easy 
words  she  sought  to  speak,  hoping  thus  to  keep  him 
from  more  serious  talk,  would  not  come  to  her  lips. 
There  was  so  much  of  silence  and  mystery  on  every 

[284] 


THE    PROOF    OF    LOVE 

side,  so  much  of  doubt  in  this  venture,  that,  in  spite  of 
her  gay  manner,  every  nerve  tingled  with  excitement. 
Glancing  up  at  him  she  bit  her  lips  in  embarrassment. 
It  was  Stutter  who  finally  found  voice,  his  mind  drift 
ing  back  to  what  she  had  lately  said  in  carelessness. 

"Y-yer  said  that  the  p-p-pony  never  1-lied  like  a 
man,"  he  began  doubtfully.  "  Yer  d-did  n't  mean  that 
f-fer  me,  did  yer?" 

There  was  something  so  deeply  pathetic  about  the 
tone  in  which  he  asked  this  as  to  hurt  her,  and  the 
slender  fingers  still  clasping  his  sleeve  suddenly  closed 
more  tightly. 

"Senor,  you  mus'  not  say  dat;  you  mus'  not  tink 
dat.  No,  no!  I  speak  that  only  in  fun,  senor  — 
nevah  I  believe  dat,  nevah.  You  good  man,  more 
good  as  Mercedes ;  she  not  vort'  von  leetle  bit  de  lofe 
you  say  to  her,  but  she  feel  mooch  shame  to  have  you 
tink  dat  she  mean  you  ven  she  speak  such  ting  in  fun." 

He  halted  suddenly^  all  remembrance  of  their  sur 
roundings,  their  possible  peril,  as  instantly  erased  from 
his  mind.  He  merely  saw  that  girl  face  upturned  to 
his  in  the  starlight,  so  fair  and  pleading,  he  merely 
heard  that  soft  voice  urging  her  unworthiness,  her  sor 
row.  A  great,  broad-shouldered  giant  he  towered 
above  her,  yet  his  voice  trembled  like  that  of  a  fright 
ened  child. 

"  An'  d-don"t  yer  say  that  n-no  more,"  he  stuttered 
in  awkwardness.  "Somehow  it  hurts.  L-Lord  !  yer 
don't  h-have  ter  be  s-s-so  blame  good  ter  be  u-up  ter 
my  level.  Th-they  don't  b-breed  no  a-angels  back  in 
oP  M-Missouri,  whar  I  come  from.  It 's  m-mostly 

[285] 


BETH    NORVELL 

mules  thar,  an'  I  r-reckon  we  all  g-git  a  bit  mulish  an' 
ornery.  B-but  I  'spect  I  'm  d-decent  'nough  ter  know 
the  r-right  sort  o'  girl  when  I  s-stack  up  agin  her.  So 
I  don't  w-want  ter  hear  no  m-more  'bout  yer  not  b-bein' 
good.  Ye  're  sure  g-good  'nough  fer  me,  an'  th- 
that  's  all  thar  is  to  it.  Now,  yer  w-won't  say  that  no 
more,  w-will  yer?" 

"  No,  senor,"  she  answered  simply,  "  I  no  say  dat 
no  more." 

He  remained  standing  before  her,  shifting  uneasily 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  a  great  hulk  in  the  gloom. 

"  Mercedes,"  he  managed  to  say  finally,  "  Ye  're  a- 
g-goin'  ter  ride  away,  an'  m-maybe  thar '11  be  o-one 
hell  o'  a  fracas  up  yere  afore  the  rest  o'  us  g-g-git  out 
o'  this  scrape.  I  d-don't  reckon  as  it'll  b-be  me  as 
will  git  h-hurt,  but  somehow  I  'd  f-feel  a  heap  better 
if  you  'd  j-jest  say  them  words  what  I  a-asked  yer  to 
afore  yer  g-go,  little  g-girl ;  I  would  that." 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face,  and  then  hid  it  against 
the  pony's  neck,  her  slight  form  trembling  violently 
beneath  the  touch  of  his  fingers.  The  strange  actions 
of  the  girl,  her  continued  silence,  half  frightened  him. 

"Maybe  yer  a-ain't  ready  yit?"  he  questioned,  his 
manner  full  of  apology. 

"Oh,  seflor,  I  cannot  say  dat  —  sure  I  cannot,"  she 
sobbed,  her  face  yet  hidden.  "  Maybe  I  say  so  some 
time  ven  I  know  eet  bettah  how  eet  ought  to  be ;  si, 
maybe  so.  But  not  now;  I  not  tink  it  be  jus'  right 
to  say  now.  I  not  angry  —  no,  no !  I  ver'  glad  you 
tink  so  of  Mercedes — it  make  me  mooch  joy.  I  not 
cry  for  dat,  senor;  I  cry  for  odder  tings.  Maybe  you 

[286] 


THE    PROOF    OF    LOVE 

know  some  time,  an'  be  ver'  sorry  vid  me.  But  I  not 
cry  any  more.  See,  I  stan'  up  straight,  an'  look  you  in  de 
face  dis  vay."  She  drew  her  hand  swiftly  across  her 
eyes.  "Dar,  de  tear  all  gone;  now  I  be  brav',  now  I 
not  be  'fraid.  You  not  ask  me  dat  now  —  not  now; 
to-morrow,  nex'  veek,  maybe  I  know  better  how  to  say 
de  trut'  vat  vas  in  my  heart — maybe  I  know  den; 
now  eet  all  jumble  up.  I  tink  I  know,  but  de  vord 
not  come  like  I  vant  eet." 

He  turned  silently  away  from  her,  leading  the  pony 
forward,  his  head  bent  low,  his  shoulders  stooped. 
There  was  a  dejection  apparent  about  the  action 
which  her  eyes  could  not  mistake.  She  touched  him 
pleadingly. 

"You  no  ver'  angry  Mercedes,  senor?" 

Brown  half  turned  about,  and  rested  one  great  hand 
upon  her  soft  hair  in  mute  caress. 

"  N-no,  little  girl,  it  a-ain't  that,"  he  admitted  slowly. 
"Only  I  'm  b-blamed  if  I  jest  e-exactly  grasp  yer  s-style. 
I  reckon  I  '11  kn-know  what  yer  mean  s-sometime." 

Could  he  have  seen  clearly  he  might  have  marked 
the  swift,  hot  tears  dimming  her  eyes,  but  he  never 
dreamed  of  their  presence,  for  her  lips  were  laughing. 

"  Maybe  so,  senor,  maybe.  I  glad  you  not  angry, 
for  I  no  like  dat.  Eet  vas  nice  I  fool  you  so;  dat  vas 
vat  make  de  men  lofe,  ven  dey  not  know  everyting. 
Ven  day  know  dem  maybe  eet  all  be  over  vid.  So 
maybe  I  show  you  sometime,  maybe  not — qulen  sabe?" 

If  her  lightly  spoken  words  hurt,  he  realized  the 
utter  futility  of  striving  then  to  penetrate  their  deeper 
meaning.  They  advanced  slowly,  moving  in  more 

[287] 


BETH    NORVELL 

closely  against  the  great  ridge  of  rocks  where  the 
denser  shadows  clung,  the  man's  natural  caution  be 
coming  apparent  as  his  mind  returned  to  a  considera 
tion  of  the  dangerous  mission  upon  which  they  were 
embarked.  To-morrow  would  leave  him  free  from  all 
this,  but  now  he  must  conduct  her  in  safety  to  that 
mist-shrouded  plain  below. 

They  had  moved  forward  for  perhaps  a  dozen  yards, 
the  obedient  pony  stepping  as  silently  as  themselves, 
Mercedes  a  foot  or  two  to  the  rear,  when  Brown  sud 
denly  halted,  staring  fixedly  at  something  slightly  at 
one  side  of  their  path.  There,  like  a  huge  baleful  eye 
glaring  angrily  at  him,  appeared  a  dull  red  glow.  An 
instant  he  doubted,  wondered,  his  mind  confused. 
Tiny  sparks  sputtered  out  into  the  darkness,  and  the 
miner  understood.  He  had  blindly  stumbled  upon  a 
lighted  fuse,  a  train  of  destruction  leading  to  some  deed 
of  hell.  With  an  oath  he  leaped  recklessly  forward, 
stamping  the  creeping  flame  out  beneath  his  feet,  crush 
ing  it  lifeless  between  his  heavy  boots  and  the  rock. 

There  was  an  angry  shout,  the  swift  rush  of  feet, 
the  red  flare  of  a  rifle  cleaving  the  night  with  burst  of 
flame.  In  the  sudden,  unearthly  glare  Brown  caught 
dim  sight  of  faces,  of  numerous  dark  figures  leaping 
toward  him,  but  he  merely  crouched  low.  The  girl !  he 
must  protect  the  girl !  That  was  all  he  knew,  all  he 
considered,  excepting  a  passionate  hatred  engendered 
by  one  of  those  faces  he  had  just  seen.  They  were 
upon  him  in  mass,  striking,  tearing  like  so  many  wild 
beasts  in  the  first  fierceness  of  attack.  His  revolver 
jammed  in  its  holster,  but  he  struck  out  with  clenched 

[288] 


THE    PROOF    OF    LOVE 

fists,  battering  at  the  black  figures,  his  teeth  ground 
together,  his  every  instinct  bidding  him  fight  hard  till 
he  died.  Once  they  pounded  him  to  his  knees,  but  he 
struggled  up,  shaking  loose  their  gripping  hands,  and 
hurling  them  back  like  so  many  children.  He  was 
crazed  by  then  with  raging  battle-fury,  his  hot  blood 
lusting,  every  great  muscle  strained  to  the  uttermost. 
He  realized  nothing,  saw  nothing,  but  those  dim  figures 
facing  him ;  insensible  to  the  blood  trickling  down  the 
front  of  his  shirt,  unconscious  of  wound,  he  flung  him 
self  forward  a  perfect  madman,  jerking  a  rifle  from  the 
helpless  fingers  of  an  opponent,  and  smiting  to  right 
and  left,  the  deadly  iron  bar  whirling  through  the  air. 
He  struck  once,  twice ;  he  saw  bodies  whirl  sidewise 
and  fall  to  the  ground.  Then  suddenly  he  seemed 
alone,  panting  fiercely,  the  smashed  rifle-stock  uplifted 
for  a  blow. 

"It's  the  big  fellow,"  roared  a  voice  at  his  left. 
"Why  don't  you  fools  shoot?" 

He  sprang  backward,  crouching  lower,  his  one 
endeavor  to  draw  their  fire,  so  as  to  protect  her  lying 
hidden  among  the  rock  shadows.  He  felt  nothing 
except  contempt  for  those  fellows,  but  he  could  not  let 
them  hurt  her.  He  stood  up  full  in  the  starlight, 
shading  his  eyes  in  an  attempt  to  see.  Somebody 
cried,  "  There  he  is,  damn  him  !  "  A  slender  figure 
swept  flying  across  the  open  space  like  some  dim  night 
vision.  A  red  flame  leaped  forth  from  the  blackness. 
The  two  stood  silhouetted  against  the  glare,  reeled 
backward  as  it  faded,  and  went  down  together  in  the  dark. 

[289] 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BENEATH  THE   DARKNESS 

RUNNING  blindly  through  the  darkness  toward 
the  sound  of  struggle  came  Hicks  and  Winston. 
They  caught  no  more  than  faint  glimpses  of 
scattering,  fleeing  figures,  but  promptly  opened  fire, 
scarcely  comprehending  as  yet  what  it  all  meant. 
Hicks,  dashing  recklessly  forward,  tripped  over  a 
recumbent  figure  in  the  darkness,  and  the  two  paused 
irresolutely,  perceiving  no  more  of  the  enemy.  Then 
it  was  that  Stutter  Brown  struggled  slowly  up  upon 
his  knees,  still  closely  clasping  the  slender  figure  of 
the  stricken  girl  within  his  arms.  She  neither  moved 
nor  moaned,  but  beneath  the  revealing  starlight  her 
eyes  were  widely  opened,  gazing  up  into  his  face, 
appearing  marvellously  brilliant  against  the  unusual 
pallor  of  her  cheeks.  Her  breath  came  short  and 
sharp  as  if  in  pain,  yet  the  lips  smiled  up  at  him. 

"  Oh,  God !  "  he  sobbed,  "  it  was  you  !  " 

"  Si,  senor,"  the  words  faltering  forth,  almost  as  if 
in  mockery  of  his  own  hesitating  speech.  "  Once  I 
said  maybe  I  show  you.  I  not  know  how  den  —  now 
I  know." 

"Sh-show  me,  little  girl — in  God's  n-name,  show  me 
wh-what? " 

"  Eef  eet  vas  true  dat  I  lofe  you,  senor.  Now  you 
tink  eet  vas  so ;  now  you  all'ays  know  vat  vas  in  de 

[290] 


BENEATH     THE     DARKNESS 

heart  of  Mercedes.     Dis  bettah  vay  as  talk,  senor  — 
nevah  you  doubt  no  more." 

He  could  only  continue  to  look  at  her,  the  intense 
agony  within  his  eyes  beyond  all  expression  of  speech, 
his  words  caught  helpless  in  the  swelling  throat.  She 
lifted  one  hand  in  weak  caress,  gently  touching  his 
cheek  with  her  white  fingers. 

"Oh,  please  don't,  senor.  Eet  hurt  me  mooch  to 
see  you  feel  dat  bad.  Sure  eet  does.  Eet  vas  not  de 
balls  vat  hurt  —  no,  no  !  I  know  dey  not  reach  to  you 
eef  dey  hit  me  de  first.  Eet  joys  me  to  do  dat — sure 
eet  does." 

"  Little  g-girl,  little  g-girl,"  he  faltered,  helplessly, 
his  great  hands  trembling  as  he  touched  her.  "  It 
w-was  you  I  t-tried  ter  save.  I-I  ran  th-th-this  way 
so  th-they  would  n't  sh-shoot  toward  yer." 

She  smiled  happily  up  at  him,  softly  stroking  his 
hair,  even  while  the  lines  of  her  face  twitched  from 
pain. 

"  Sure  I  know,  senor.  You  von  brav',  good  man 
— maybe  now  you  all'ays  tink  I  brav',  good  also.  Dat 
be  'nough  for  Mercedes.  Oh,  dis  be  de  bettar  vay  - 
de  great  God  knows  ;  sure  He  knows.  Now,  senor,  I 
be  yours  all'ays,  forever.  I  so  happy  to  be  lofed  by 
good  man.  I  just  look  in  your  face,  senor,  and  tink, 
He  lofe  me,  he  ask  me  marry  him.  Maybe  I  not 
nevah  do  dat,  for  fear  he  tire,  for  fear  he  hear  tings 
not  nice  about  Mercedes.  Dat  make  me  sorrow,  make 
me  shame  before  him.  Si,  I  know  how  it  vould  be. 
I  know  de  Americanos ;  dey  ver'  proud  of  dare  vives, 
dey  fight  for  de  honor.  So  eet  make  me  mooch  'fraid. 

[291] 


BETH    NORVELL 

I  no  vort'  eet  —  no,  no!  I  know  not  den  de  bettar 
vay.  But  de  good  Mother  of  God  she  show  me,  she 
tell  me  vat  do  —  I  run  quick ;  I  die  for  de  man  I 
lofe,  an'  den  he  all'ays  know  dat  I  lofe  him ;  he  know 
den  bettar  as  eef  I  marry  him.  Si,  si,  eet  vas  all  joy 
for  Mercedes,  now,  my  senor.  Eet  not  hurt,  eet  make 
me  glad  to  know." 

Brown  bent  ever  lower  as  he  listened,  his  great  body 
shaking  in  the  effort  to  repress  his  sobs,  his  lips  press 
ing  against  her  white  cheek. 

"  I  kiss  you  now,  senor,"  she  whispered,  faintly. 
"Just  de  once,  like  I  vas  your  vife." 

Their  lips  met,  the  very  soul  of  each  seemingly  in 
the  soft,  clinging  contact.  Suddenly  the  poor  girl 
sank  backward,  her  head  falling  heavily  upon  his  sup 
porting  arm,  a  peculiar  shudder  twitching  her  slender 
form. 

"  Mercedes  ! "  he  cried  in  alarm. 

"  Si,  senor,"  the  black  eyes  still  wide  open,  but  her 
words  scarcely  audible.  "  Eet  is  so  hard  to  see  you  ; 
maybe  de  stars  hide  behin'  de  cloud,  but,  but  I  lofe  — 

"  Yes,  y-yes,  -I  kn-know." 

She  lifted  her  arms,  then  dropped  them  heavily  upon 
his  bowed  shoulders. 

"  Dar  is  such  a  brightness  come,  senor.  Eet  light 
every  ting  like  eet  vas  de  day.  Maybe  I  be  good  too, 
now  dat  a  good  man  lofe  me ;  maybe  de  God  forgif  all 
de  bad  because  I  lofe.  You  tink  so?  Oh,  eet  —  eet 
joys  me  so  —  senor!  senor!" 

Motionless,  almost  breathless,  but  for  the  sobs 
shaking  his  great  figure,  he  held  her  tightly,  bending 

[292] 


BENEATH     THE     DARKNESS 

low,  her  white  cheek  against  his  own,  her  head  pillowed 
upon  his  arm.  About  them  was  the  silence,  the 
solemn  night  shadows,  amid  which  waited  Hicks  and 
Winston  earnestly  watching.  Finally,  the  latter  spoke 
gently,  striving  to  arouse  the  man ;  but  Stutter  Brown 
never  lifted  his  head,  never  removed  his  eyes  from 
the  death-white  face  upheld  by  his  arm.  As  though 
stricken  to  stone  he  remained  motionless,  seemingly 
lifeless,  his  face  as  pallid  as  the  dead  he  guarded. 
Hicks  bent  over  and  placed  one  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  Stutter,  ol'  pard,"  he  said,  pleadingly.  "  I  know 
it 's  mighty  hard,  but  don't  take  on  so ;  don't  act  that 
way.  It  can't  do  her  no  manner  o'  good  now.  It 's 
all — all  over  with,  an'  you  ain't  helpin'  her  none 
a-settin'  thar  that  way." 

The  smitten  man  drew  a  deep  breath,  glancing  up 
into  the  kindly,  seamed  face  bending  over  him,  and 
about  at  the  surrounding  darkness.  He  acted  like 
one  suddenly  aroused  from  sleep,  unable  to  com 
prehend  his  situation.  Slowly,  with  all  the  tenderness 
of  love,  he  crumpled  his  old  hat  into  the  semblance  of 
a  pillow,  placed  it  upon  the  rock,  and  lowered  the 
girl's  head  until  it  rested  softly  upon  it.  Gently  he 
passed  his  great  hand  in  caress  across  the  ruffled  black 
hair,  pressing  it  back  from  her  forehead.  He  arose  to 
his  knees,  to  his  feet,  swaying  slightly,  one  hand  pressed 
against  his  head  as  he  stared  blankly  into  the  faces  of 
the  two  men. 

"  W-which  way  d-did  he  go  ?  "  he  asked,  almost 
stupidly.  "  Th-the  feller  w-who  told  'em  ter  f-f-fire  ?  " 

C293] 


BETH    NORVELL 

Old  Hicks,  his  eyes  filled  with  misery,  shook  his 
head. 

"Back  ter  the  'Independence,'  I  reckon,"  he  ad 
mitted.  "Most  o'  'em  I  saw  started  that  way." 

Brown  roughly  jerked  his  gun  from  out  its  holster, 
holding  the  shining  weapon  up  into  the  starlight. 

"No,  he  did  n't;  not  that  one,"  he  growled  fiercely, 
his  glance  falling  again  upon  the  upturned  features  of 
the  dead  girl.  "I  saw  him  out  thar  runnin'  toward  our 
shaft-hole ;  h-he  's  up  t-ter  more  d-deviltry.  Y-you 
take  k-keer  o'  her."  His  voice  broke,  then  rang  out 
strong.  "  By  G-God,  I  '11  git  the  murderer !  " 

He  pushed  past  between  the  two,  shouldering  them 
aside  as  though  failing  to  see  them,  and,  with  the  leap 
of  a  tiger,  disappeared  in  the  night.  Each  man  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face,  drawn,  white,  every  line 
picturing  savagery,  and  shrank  back  from  the  memory. 
It  was  as  if  they  had  looked  upon  something  too 
horrible  for  thought.  A  moment  they  stared  after 
him,  clutching  their  rifles  as  though  in  an  agony  of 
fear.  Hicks  first  found  words  of  expression. 

"  He  's  gone  mad  !    God  pity  him,  he  's  gone  mad  ! " 

Winston  drew  himself  together  sharply,  one  hand 
grasping  the  other's  arm. 

"Then  leave  it  to  him,"  he  said,  quickly.  "Who 
ever  did  this  deed  deserves  his  punishment.  Let  us 
do  what  he  bade  us  —  look  to  the  body  of  this  poor 
girl." 

They  turned  back,  dreading  their  task,  moving  still 
as  though  half  dazed.  As  they  advanced,  a  dark  body 
just  beyond  suddenly  rose  to  its  knees,  and  began 

L294] 


BENEATH     THE    DARKNESS 

crawling  away.  With  a  bound  Hicks  succeeded  in 
laying  hands  upon  the  fellow,  and  flung  him  over,  face 
upward  to  the  stars.  With  gun  at  his  head  he  held 
the  man  prostrate,  staring  down  upon  the  revealed 
features  in  manifest  astonishment. 

"  Damn  me !  "  he  cried,  a  new  note  of  surprise  in 
his  voice,  "Winston,  look  yere  !  " 

"What  is  it?"  and  the  younger  man  pressed 
forward,  his  rifle  ready. 

"Ain't  that  Burke?  Ain't  that  the  same  feller 
they  had  you  pinched  fer  murderin'  ? " 

The  helpless  man  lying  upon  the  ground  frowned 
savagely  up  at  them,  a  dirty  bandage  bound  about  his 
head  giving  him  a  ghastly,  unnatural  appearance.  For 
a  long  moment  the  startled  engineer  gazed  down  at 
him  in  incredulity,  unable  to  distinguish  the  features 
clearly,  his  own  heart  beating  rapidly  in  suspense. 

"  I  half  believe  it  is.     Are  you  Jack  Burke  ?  " 

The  man  attempted  a  grin,  but  there  was  little  of 
merriment  in  the  result. 

"  Oi  think  loikely  ye  're  as  liable  as  any  wan  to 
know.  Ye  're  the  lad  that  put  this  head  on  me,  but 
that  other  divil  it  was  that  broke  me  arm.  Let  me 
up  from  here.  Begorry!  Oi  Ve  had  'nough  fightin'fer 
wan  toime." 

"  Did  you  know  I  had  been  put  under  arrest  on  the 
charge  of  killing  you  ?  " 

Burke  grinned,  this  time  in  earnest. 

"  Divil  a  bit  did  Oi  know  anything  about  it.  Farn- 
ham  he  tould  me  to  keep  damn  quiet  in  the  bunk- 
house,  out  o'  sight,  but  whin  they  wanted  for  to  set  this 

l>95] 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

fuse  off,  it  seems  Oi  was  the  only  lad  that  could  do 
the  job,  an'  so  they  brought  me  out  here  along  wid 
'em.  It 's  a  busted  head  an*  a  broken  arm  Oi  've  got 
for  me  share  o'  the  fun.  Be  the  powers,  now,  let  me 
git  up!" 

The  two  men,  watching  him  closely,  exchanged 
glances. 

"  All  right,  Burke,"  and  Winston  held  up  his  rifle 
suggestively.  "  You  can  get  up,  only  stay  close  to  us, 
and  no  tricks.  I  want  you,  and  I  want  you  bad.  If 
you  make  any  break,  there  '11  be  a  dead  Irishman  this 
time  sure.  Is  that  you,  Mike  ?  " 

"  Sure,  sor." 

"  Good  ;  you  Ve  come  just  in  time.  Drop  your 
muzzle  on  this  native  son,  and  if  the  fellow  makes  a 
suspicious  move,  plug  him,  you  understand  ?  " 

"Ye  bet  Oi  do,  sor.  Sthep  out  there,  Burke,  yer 
slab-sided  boss  o'  Swades,  or  Oi  '11  show  ye  what 
a  dacent  Oirishman  —  an  O'Brien,  bedad, — thinks  o' 
the  loikes  of  ye;  Oi  will  that." 

With  sympathetic  gentleness,  and  in  all  the  tender 
ness  possible,  their  eyes  moist,  and  everything  else  for 
gotten  excepting  their  sad  task,  Hicks  and  Winston 
kneeled  on  the  hard  rock  and  lifted  the  slender  figure 
of  Mercedes  in  their  arms.  Slowly,  without  the 
exchange  of  a  word,  the  little  concourse  turned  in  the 
darkness,  and  advanced  in  the  direction  of  the  cabin, 
bearing  the  silent  burden.  They  walked  with  bowed 
heads  and  careful  steps,  their  hearts  heavy.  With  a 
faint  whinny  the  girl's  deserted  pony  trotted  forward 
from  out  the  shadow  where  he  had  been  left,  sniffed  at 

[296] 


BENEATH    THE    DARKNESS 

her  trailing  skirt  with  outstretched  nose,  and  fell  in 
behind,  walking  with  head  bent  almost  to  the  ground 
as  though  he  also  understood  and  mourned.  Winston 
glanced,  marvelling,  back  at  the  animal,  hastily  brush 
ing  a  tear  from  out  his  own  eye ;  yet  his  lips  remained 
set  and  rigid.  He  felt  no  doubt  about  who  it  was 
Brown  was  seeking  through  the  black  night.  When 
they  met,  it  would  be  a  battle  to  the  death. 

Before  the  still  open  door  of  the  cabin  they  silently 
lowered  their  burden  in  the  shadow  of  the  building. 
An  instant  they  stood  there  listening  intently  for  any 
sound  to  reach  them  from  out  the  surrounding  night. 
Then  Winston,  assuming  the  duty,  stepped  reluctantly 
forward  endeavoring  to  peer  within.  His  heart  throb 
bed  from  the  pain  of  that  sudden  message  of  death  he 
brought. 

"  Beth,"  he  called,  perceiving  no  movement  within, 
and  compelling  his  voice  to  calmness.  "  Miss  Norvell." 

There  was  a  slight  movement  near  the  farther  wall, 
but  it  was  the  voice  of  the  wounded  sheriff  which 
answered. 

"Who  are  yer  ?  What  was  all  that  firm'  about  just 
now?  Damn  if  I  ain  't  too  weak  ter  git  up,  but  I  got 
a  gun  yere,  an'  reckon  I  kin  pull  the  trigger." 

"  It's  Winston  and  Hicks.  We  've  had  a  skirmish 
out  beyond  the  dump.  Those  fellows  tried  to  blow 
up  our  shaft,  and  we  caught  them  at  it.  Is  Miss  Nor 
vell  here?" 

"No,  I  reckon  not;  she  was  sittin'  yere  talkin'  to 
me  when  that  shootin'  begun,  an'  then  she  ran  out  the 
door  thar.  Anybody  git  hurt?" 

[297] 


BETH    NO  RVELL 

"The  little  Mexican  girl  was  killed.  We  have 
brought  her  body  here." 

"  Good  God ! " 

"And  we  've  also  got  a  prisoner,  sheriff.  It 's  that 
same  Jack  Burke  you  arrested  me  for  killing.  He 
seems  very  much  alive." 

There  was  a  rustling  back  in  the  darkness,  as  if  the 
man  within  was  endeavoring  to  draw  his  body  into  a 
sitting  posture.  Then  he  swore  savagely,  pounding 
his  fist  into  the  side  of  the  bunk,  as  though  seeking 
thus  to  relieve  his  feelings. 

"  Burke ! "  he  fairly  exploded  at  last,  his  anger 
appearing  to  stifle  utterance.  "Jack  Burke!  Hell! 
Is  that  true  ?  Oh,  Lord  !  but  I  wish  I  could  git  out  o' 
yere.  That  damn  Farnham  swore  out  that  warrant 
down  in  San  Juan,  ther  blame,  ornery  cur.  It  was  a 
low-down,  measly  trick,  an'  he  actually  had  the  nerve 
ter  use  me  ter  play  out  his  game  fer  him.  Lord !  if 
ver  I  git  my  hand  on  him  I  '11  shut  down  hard." 

No  one  answered  him,  the  thought  of  all  recurring 
reverently  to  the  motionless,  silent  dead  without. 
Bareheaded,  the  two  men,  groping  through  the  dark 
ness,  bore  Mercedes  within  in  all  tenderness,  and 
placed  the  slender  form  upon  the  bed,  covering  it  with 
the  single  sheet.  Hicks  remained  motionless,  bending 
over  her,  the  kindly  darkness  veiling  the  mist  of  tears 
dimming  his  old  eyes  and  the  trembling  of  his  lips  as 
he  sought,  for  the  first  time  in  years,  to  pray.  But 
Winston  turned  instantly  and  walked  over  toward 
Hayes,  his  heart  already  filled  with  fresh  anxiety. 

"Where  did  she  go,  do  you  know?" 
[298] 


BENEATH    THE    DARKNESS 

"  Who  ?  the  young  actress  woman  ?  I  could  n't  see 
exactly,  only  she  went  outside.  I  thought  I  heard 
voices  talkin'  out  thar  later  on,  over  beyond  toward 
the  window,  but  maybe  I  imagined  it.  Darn  this  ol' 
head  o'  mine!  It  keeps  whirlin'  round  every  time  I 
move,  like  it  was  all  wheels." 

The  engineer,  his  face  white  with  determination, 
strode  to  the  door.  Beyond  doubt  it  was  Biff  Farn- 
ham  whose  voice  Brown  had  recognized,  commanding 
his  men  to  fire;  it  was  Farnham  who  had  disappeared 
in  the  direction  of  the  "  Little  Yankee  "  shaft-house. 
What  fresh  deviltry  was  the  desperate  gambler  engaged 
upon  ?  What  other  tragedy  was  impending  out  there 
in  the  black  night? 


099] 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME 

WINSTON  could  never  afterward  recall  having 
heard  any  report,  yet  as  he  stepped  across  the 
threshold  a  sharp  flare  of  red  fire  cleft  the 
blackness  to  his  left.  As  though  this  was  a  signal  he 
leaped  recklessly  forward,  running  blindly  along  the  nar 
row  path  toward  the  ore-dump.  Some  trick  of  memory 
led  him  to  remember  a  peculiar  swerve  in  the  trail  just 
beneath  the  upper  rim  of  the  canyon.  It  must  have 
been  about  there  that  he  saw  the  flash,  and  he  plunged 
over  the  edge,  both  hands  outstretched  in  protection 
of  his  eyes  from  injury  should  he  collide  with  any 
obstacle  in  the  darkness.  The  deep  shadows  blinded 
him,  but  there  was  no  hesitancy,  some  instinct  caus 
ing  him  to  feel  the  urgent  need  of  haste.  Once  he 
stumbled  and  fell  headlong,  but  was  as  instantly  up 
again,  bruised  yet  not  seriously  hurt.  His  revolver 
was  jerked  loose  from  his  belt,  but  the  man  never 
paused  to  search  for  it.  Even  as  he  regained  his  feet, 
his  mind  bewildered  by  the  shock,  his  ears  distinguished 
clearly  the  cry  of  a  woman,  the  sound  of  heavy  feet 
crushing  through  underbrush.  It  was  to  his  right, 
and  he  hurled  himself  directly  into  the  thick  chaparral 
in  the  direction  from  whence  the  sound  came. 

He  knew  not  what  new  terror  awaited  him,  what 
peril  lurked  in  the  path.     At  that  moment  he  cared 

[300] 


THE    SHADOW    OF    CRIME 

nothing.  Bareheaded,  pushing  desperately  aside  the 
obstructing  branches,  his  heart  throbbing,  his  clothing 
torn,  his  face  white  with  determination,  he  struggled 
madly  forward,  stumbling,  creeping,  fighting  a  passage, 
until  he  finally  emerged,  breathless  but  resolute,  into  a 
little  cove  extending  back  into  the  rock  wall.  From 
exertion  and  excitement  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot, 
the  perspiration  dripping  from  his  face. 

He  stopped.  The  sight  which  met  him  for  the 
moment  paralyzed  both  speech  and  motion.  Halfway 
across  the  open  space,  only  dimly  revealed  in  the  star 
light,  her  long  hair  dislodged  and  flying  wildly  about 
her  shoulders,  the  gleam  of  the  weapon  in  her  hand, 
apparently  stopped  in  the  very  act  of  flight,  her  eyes 
filled  with  terror  staring  back  toward  him,  stood  Beth 
Norvell.  In  that  first  instant  he  saw  nothing  else, 
thought  only  of  her ;  of  the  intense  peril  that  had  so 
changed  the  girl.  With  hands  outstretched  he  took 
a  quick  step  toward  her,  marvelling  why  she  crouched 
and  shrank  back  before  him  as  if  in  speechless  fright. 
Then  he  saw.  There  between  them,  at  his  very  feet, 
the  face  upturned  and  ghastly,  the  hands  yet  clinched 
as  if  in  struggle,  lay  the  lifeless  body  of  Biff  Farnham. 
As  though  fascinated  by  the  sight,  Winston  stared  at 
it,  involuntarily  drawing  away  as  the  full  measure  of  this 
awful  horror  dawned  upon  him ;  she  had  killed  him. 
Driven  to  the  deed  by  desperation,  goaded  to  it  by  in 
sult  and  injury,  tried  beyond  all  power  of  human 
endurance,  she  had  taken  the  man's  life.  This  fact 
was  all  he  could  grasp,  all  he  could  comprehend.  It 
shut  down  about  him  like  a  great  blackness.  In  the 


BETH    NORVELL 

keen  agony  of  that  moment  of  comprehension  Winston 
recalled  how  she  had  once  confessed  temptation  to 
commit  the  deed  ;  how  she  had  even  openly  threatened 
it  in  a  tempest  of  sudden  passion,  if  this  man  should 
ever  seek  her  again.  He  had  done  so,  and  she  had 
redeemed  her  pledge.  He  had  dared,  and  she  had 
struck.  Under  God,  no  one  could  justly  blame  her; 
yet  the  man's  heart  sank,  leaving  him  faint  and  weak, 
reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  as  he  realized  what  this 
must  mean  —  to  her,  to  him,  to  all  the  world.  Right 
or  wrong,  justified  or  unjustified,  the  verdict  of  law 
spelled  murder ;  the  verdict  of  society,  ostracism.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  must  stifle ;  his  brain  was 
whirling  dizzily.  He  saw  it  all  as  in  a  flash  of  light 
ning —  the  arrest,  the  pointing  fingers,  the  bitterness 
of  exposure,  the  cruel  torture  of  the  court,  the  broken 
hearted  woman  cowering  before  her  judges.  Oh,  God! 
it  was  too  much!  Yet  what  could  he  do  ?  How  might 
he  protect,  shield  her  from  the  consequences  of  this 
awful  act  ?  The  law !  What  cared  he  for  the  law, 
knowing  the  story  of  her  life,  knowing  still  that  he 
loved  her  ?  For  a  moment  the  man  utterly  forgot  him 
self  in  the  intensity  of  his  agony  for  her.  This  must 
inevitably  separate  them  more  widely  than  ever  before ; 
yet  he  would  not  think  of  that  —  only  of  what  he  could 
do  now  to  aid  her.  He  tore  open  his  shirt,  that  he 
might  have  air,  his  dull  gaze  uplifting  piteously  from 
the  face  of  the  dead  to  the  place  where  she  stood,  her 
hands  pressed  against  her  head,  her  great  eyes  staring 
at  him  as  though  she  confronted  a  ghost.  Her  very 
posture  shocked  him,  it  was  so  filled  with  speechless 

[302] 


THE    SHADOW    OF    CRIME 

horror,  so  wild  with  undisguised  terror.  Suddenly 
she  gave  utterance  to  a  sharp  cry,  that  was  half  a  sob, 
breaking  in  her  throat. 

"Oh,  my  God!  my  God!  —  you!" 

The  very  sound  of  her  voice,  unnatural,  unhuman 
as  it  was,  served  to  bring  him  to  himself. 

"Yes,  Beth,  yes,"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely  through 
dry  lips,  stepping  across  the  body  toward  her.  "  You 
need  not  fear  me." 

She  drew  hastily  back  from  before  him,  holding 
forth  her  hands  as  though  pressing  him  away,  upon 
her  face  that  same  look  of  unutterable  horror. 

"  You  !  You  !  Oh,  my  God  !  "  she  kept  repeating. 
"  See  !  see  there  !  —  he  is  dead,  dead,  dead  !  I  —  I 
found  him  there  ;  I  —  I  found  him  there.  Oh,  my 
God  !  —  that  face  so  white  in  the  starlight !  I  —  I 
heard  the  words,  and  —  and  the  shot."  She  pressed 
both  hands  across  her  eyes  as  though  seeking  to  blot 
it  out.  "  I  swear  I  heard  it !  I  —  I  do  not  know  why 
I  came  here,  but  I  —  I  found  him  there  dead,  dead  ! 
I  —  I  was  all  alone  in  the  dark.  I  —  I  had  to  touch 
him  to  make  sure,  and  —  and  then  it  was  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  realizing  she  was  blindly 
endeavoring  to  clear  herself,  yet  thinking  only  how  he 
might  soothe  her,  inexpressibly  shocked  by  both  words 
and  manner.  "I  know,  I  understand  —  you  found 
him  there  in  the  dark,  and  it  has  terrified  you." 

He  approached  closer,  holding  forth  his  own  hands, 
believing  she  would  come  to  him.  But  instead  she 
shrank  away  as  a  child  might,  expecting  punishment, 
her  arms  uplifted,  shielding  her  face. 

[303] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"No,  no  ;  do  not  touch  me;  do  not  touch  me,"  she 
moaned.  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  only  I  could  not 
bear  it." 

"  Beth  ! "  He  compelled  his  voice  to  sternness, 
confident  now  that  this  hysteria  could  be  controlled 
only  through  the  exercise  of  his  own  will.  "You 
must  listen  to  me,  and  be  guided  by  my  judgment. 
You  must,  you  shall,  do  as  I  say.  This  is  a  most 
terrible  happening,  but  it  is  now  too  late  to  remedy. 
We  cannot  restore  life  once  taken.  We  must  face  the 
fact  and  do  the  very  best  we  can  for  the  future.  This 
man  is  dead.  How  he  died  can  make  no  difference  to 
us  now.  You  must  go  away  from  here ;  you  must  go 
away  from  here  at  once." 

"And  —  and  leave  him  alone?" 

The  whispered  words  stung  him,  his  distressed  mind 
placing  wrong  construction  on  the  utterance. 

"Has  he  been  so  much  to  you  that  now  you  must 
sacrifice  yourself  needlessly  for  him?"  he  questioned 
quickly. 

"No,  not  that — not  that,"  a  shudder  ran  through 
her  body, "  but  he  —  he  was  my  husband.  You  forget." 

"  I  do  not  forget.  God  knows  it  has  been  burden 
enough  for  me.  But  you  have  no  further  duty  here, 
none  to  him.  You  have  to  yourself  and  to  me." 

"To  — to  you?" 

"  Yes,  to  me.  I  will  put  it  that  way,  if  it  will  only 
stir  you  to  action.  I  can  not,  will  not,  leave  you  here 
alone  to  suffer  for  this.  If  you  stay,  I  stay.  In 
Heaven's  name,  Beth,  I  plead  with  you  to  go  ;  I  beg 
you  to  be  guided  in  this  by  me." 

[304] 


THE    SHADOW    OF    CRIME 

"  You  —  you  will  go  with  me  ?  "  her  voice  trembling, 
yet  for  the  first  time  exhibiting  a  trace  of  interest. 
"  If  I  go,  you  will  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  can  you  suppose  I  would  ever  permit 
you  to  go  alone?  Do  you  give  me  your  promise?" 

She  still  held  her  head  pressed  between  the  palms  of 
her  hands,  her  dishevelled  hair  hanging  far  below  the 
waist,  her  dark  eyes,  wild  and  filled  with  terror,  roving 
about  as  though  seeking  to  pierce  the  surrounding 
darkness. 

"  Oh,  my  God !  I  don't  know !  "  she  cried  in  a 
breathless  sob.  "  I  don't  know !  Why  won't  you 
go  ?  Why  won't  you  go,  and  leave  me  here  with 
him,  until  some  one  else  comes  ?  I  cannot  understand  ; 
my  brain  is  on  fire.  But  that  would  be  better  —  yes, 
yes  !  Do  that.  I  —  I  am  not  afraid  of  him." 

He  caught  her  outflung  hand  firmly  within  his  own 
grasp.  She  shuddered,  as  if  the  contact  were  painful, 
yet  made  no  effort  to  escape,  her  eyes  widening  as  she 
looked  at  him. 

"  No,  I  will  not  go  one  step  without  you."  He 
held  her  helpless,  his  face  grown  stern,  seeing  in  this 
his  only  hope  of  influencing  her  action.  "  Can  it  be 
you  believe  me  such  a  cur?  Beth,  we  both  compre 
hend  the  wrong  this  man  has  done,  the  evil  of  his  life, 
the  provocation  given  for  such  an  act  as  this.  He 
deserved  it  all.  This  is  no  time  for  blame.  If  we 
desired  to  aid  him,  our  remaining  here  now  would 
accomplish  nothing.  Others  will  discover  the  body 
and  give  it  proper  care.  But,  oh,  God  !  do  you  realize 
what  it  will  inevitably  mean  for  us  to  be  discovered 

[305] 


BETH     NORVELL 

here  ?  —  the  disgrace,  the  stigma,  the  probability  of 
arrest  and  conviction,  the  ruthless  exposure  of  every 
thing?  I  plead  with  you  to  think  of  all  this,  and  no 
longer  hesitate.  We  have  no  time  for  that.  Leave 
here  with  me  before  it  becomes  too  late.  I  believe  I 
know  a  way  out,  and  there  is  opportunity  if  we  move 
quickly.  But  the  slightest  delay  may  close  every 
avenue  for  escape.  Beth,  Beth,  blot  out  all  else,  and 
tell  me  you  will  go  !  " 

The  intense  agony  apparent  in  his  voice  seemed  to 
break  her  down  utterly.  The  tears  sprang  blinding  to 
her  dry  eyes,  her  head  bent  forward. 

"And,"  she  asked,  as  if  the  thought  had  not  yet 
reached  her  understanding,  "  you  will  not  go  without 
—  without  me?" 

"  No ;  whatever  the  result,  no." 

She  lifted  her  face,  white,  haggard,  and  looked  at 
him  through  the  mist  obscuring  her  eyes,  no  longer 
wide  opened  in  wildness. 

"Then  I  must  go;  I  must  go,"  she  exclaimed,  a 
shudder  shaking  her  from  head  to  foot ;  "  God  help 
me,  I  must  go  !  " 

A  moment  she  gazed  blankly  back  toward  the 
motionless  body  on  the  ground,  the  ghastly  counte 
nance  upturned  to  the  stars,  her  own  face  as  white  as 
the  dead,  one  hand  pressing  back  her  dark  hair.  She 
reeled  from  sudden  faintness,  yet,  before  he  could  touch 
her  in  support,  she  had  sunk  upon  her  knees,  with 
head  bowed  low,  the  long  tresses  trailing  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Beth !     Beth ! "    he   cried   in   an    agony  of  fear. 

[306] 


THE     SHADOW    OF     CRIME 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  expression  that  of  earnest 
pleading. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  will  go,"  she  said,  the  words  trembling  ; 
"but  —  but  let  me  pray  first." 

He  stood  motionless  above  her,  his  heart  throbbing, 

*  DJ 

his  own  eyes  lowered  upon  the  ground.  He  was  con 
scious  of  the  movement  of  her  lips,  yet  could  never 
afterward  recall  even  a  broken  sentence  of  that  prayer. 
Possibly  it  was  too  sacred  even  for  his  ears,  only  to  be 
measured  by  the  infinite  love  of  God.  She  ceased  to 
speak  at  last,  the  low  voice  sinking  into  an  inarticulate 
whisper,  yet  she  remained  kneeling  there  motionless,  no 
sound  audible  excepting  her  repressed  sobbing.  Driven 
by  the  requirements  of  haste,  Winston  touched  her 
gently  upon  the  shoulder. 

"  Come,  my  girl,"  he  said,  the  sight  of  her  suffering 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear.  "You  have  done  all 
you  can  here  now." 

She  arose  to  her  feet  slowly,  never  looking  toward 
him,  never  appearing  to  heed  his  presence.  He 
noticed  the  swelling  of  her  throat  as  though  the  effort 
to  breathe  choked  her,  the  quick  spasmodic  heaving  of 
her  bosom,  and  set  his  teeth,  struggling  against  the 
strain  upon  his  own  nerves. 

"You  will  go  with  me  now?" 

She  glanced  about  at  him,  her  eyes  dull,  unseeing. 

"Oh,  yes  —  now,"  she  answered,  as  if  the  words 
were  spoken  automatically.  He  led  her  away,  ignoring 
the  constant  efforts  she  made,  as  they  climbed  the  bank, 
to  gaze  back  across  his  shoulder.  Finally  the  inter 
vening  branches  completely  hid  that  white,  dead  face 

[307] 


BETH     NO  RVE  LL 

below,  and,  as  if  with  it  had  vanished  all  remaining 
strength  of  will,  or  power  of  body,  the  girl  drooped 
her  head  against  him,  swaying  blindly  as  she  walked. 
Without  a  word  he  drew  her  close  within  his  arm, 
her  hair  blowing  across  his  face,  her  hand  gripping 
his  shoulder.  It  was  thus  they  came  forth  amid  the 
clearer  starlight  upon  the  ridge  summit.  Again  and 
again  as  they  moved  slowly  he  strove  to  speak,  to 
utter  some  word  of  comfort,  of  sympathy.  But  he 
could  not  —  the  very  expression  of  her  partially  revealed 
face,  as  he  caught  glimpses  of  it,  held  him  speechless. 
Deep  within  his  heart  he  knew  her  trouble  was  beyond 
the  ministration  of  words.  Some  one  was  standing  out 
in  front  of  the  cabin.  His  eyes  perceived  the  figure 
as  they  approached,  and  he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
speak  of  this  thing  of  horror  in  her  presence. 

"  Beth,"  he  said  gently,  but  had  to  touch  her  to 
attract  attention,  "  I  want  you  to  sit  here  and  wait 
while  I  arrange  for  our  journey.  You  are  not  afraid  ?  " 

"  No,"  her  voice  utterly  devoid  of  emotion,  "  I  am 
not  afraid." 

"You  will  remain  here?" 

She  looked  at  him,  her  face  expressionless,  as  though 
she  failed  to  understand.  Yet  when  he  pointed  to  the 
stone  she  sat  down. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  speaking  those  common  words 
hesitatingly  as  if  they  were  from  some  unfamiliar  for 
eign  tongue,  "  I  am  to  do  what  you  say." 

She  bent  wearily  down,  her  head  buried  within  her 
hands.  For  a  moment  Winston  stood  hesitating, 
scarcely  daring  to  leave  her.  But  she  did  not  move, 

[308] 


THE    SHADOW    OF    CRIME 

and  finally  he  turned  away,  walking  directly  toward 
that  indistinct  figure  standing  beside  the  cabin  door. 
As  he  drew  closer  he  recognized  the  old  miner,  his 
rifle  half-raised  in  suspicion  of  his  visitor.  It  must  be 
done,  and  the  engineer  went  at  his  task  directly. 

"  Has  Brown  come  back  ?  " 

"  Shore  ;  he  's  in  thar  now,"  and  Hicks  peered  cau 
tiously  into  the  face  of  his  questioner,  even  while  point 
ing  back  into  the  dark  cabin.  "  He  come  in  a  while 
ago ;  never  said  no  word  ter  me,  but  just  pushed  past 
in  thar  ter  the  bed,  an'  kneeled  down  with  his  face  in 
the  bed-clothes.  He  ain't  moved  ner  spoke  since. 
I  went  in  onct,  an'  tried  ter  talk  ter  him,  but  he  never 
so  much  as  stirred,  er  looked  at  me.  I  tell  yer,  Mr. 
Winston,  it  just  don't  seem  nat'ral ;  't  ain't  a  bit  like 
Stutter  fer  ter  act  in  that  way.  I  just  could  n't  stand 
it  no  longer,  an'  had  ter  git  out  yere  into  the  open  air. 
Damn,  but  it  makes  me  sick." 

"  This  has  been  a  terrible  night,"  theyounger  man  said 
gravely,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder.  "  I 
hope  never  to  pass  through  such  another.  But  we  are 
not  done  with  it  yet.  Hicks,  Farnham  has  been  killed 
—  shot.  His  body  lies  over  yonder  in  that  little  cove, 
just  beyond  the  trail.  You  will  have  to  attend  to  it, 
for  I  am  going  to  get  his  wife  away  from  here  at  once." 

"You  are  what?" 

"I  am  going  to  take  Miss  Norvell  away  —  now, 
to-night.  I  am  going  to  take  her  across  to  Daggett 
Station,  to  catch  the  east-bound  train." 

Hicks  stared  at  him  open-eyed,  the  full  meaning  of 
all  this  coming  to  his  mind  by  degrees. 

[309] 


BETH  NORVELL 

"  Good  God  !  Do  yer  think  she  did  it  ?  "  he  ques 
tioned  incredulously. 

Winston  shook  him,  his  teeth  grinding  together 
savagely. 

"  Damn  you  !  it  makes  no  difference  what  I  think  !  " 
he  exclaimed  fiercely,  his  nerves  throbbing.  "  All  you 
need  to  know  is  that  she  is  going ;  going  to-night ; 
going  to  Daggett  Station,  to  Denver,  to  wherever  she 
will  be  beyond  danger  of  ever  being  found.  You 
understand  that?  She  's  going  with  me,  and  you  are 
going  to  help  us,  and  you  are  going  to  do  your  part 
without  asking  any  more  fool  questions." 

"What  is  it  you  want?  " 

"Your  horse,  and  the  pony  Mercedes  was  riding." 

Hicks  uttered  a  rasping  oath,  that  seemed  to  catch, 
growling,  in  his  lean  throat. 

"  But,  .see  yere,  Winston,"  he  protested  warmly. 
"Just  look  at  the  shape  your  goin'  now  will  leave 
us  in  yere  at  the  c  Little  Yankee.'  We  need  yer  testi 
mony,  an'  need  it  bad." 

Winston  struck  his  hand  against  the  log,  as  slight 
vent  to  his  feelings. 

"  Hicks,  I  never  supposed  you  were  a  fool.  You 
know  better  than  that,  if  you  will  only  stop  and  think. 
This  claim  matter  is  settled  already.  The  whole  trou 
ble  originated  with  Farnham,  and  he  is  dead.  To 
morrow  you  '11  bury  him.  The  sheriff  is  here,  and  he 's 
already  beginning  to  understand  this  affair.  He  stands 
to  help  you.  Now,  all  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  swear  out 
warrants  for  Farnham's  partners,  and  show  up  in  evi 
dence  that  tunnel  running  along  your  lead.  It 's 


THE    SHADOW    OF    CRIME 

simple  as  A  B  C,  now  that  you  know  it 's  there. 
They  can't  beat  you,  and  you  don't  require  a  word  of 
testimony  from  me.  But  that  poor  girl  needs  me, — 
she's  almost  crazed  by  this  thing,  —  and  I  'm  going 
with  her,  if  I  have  to  fight  my  way  out  from  here  with 
a  rifle.  That's  the  whole  of  it  —  either  you  give  me 
those  horses,  or  I  '11  take  them." 

Old  Hicks  looked  into  the  grim  face  fronting  him 
so  threateningly,  the  complete  situation  slowly  reveal 
ing  itself  to  his  mind. 

"  Great  Guns ! "  he  said  at  last,  almost  apologetically. 
"  Yer  need  n't  do  nothin'  like  that.  Lord,  no !  I 
like  yer  first  rate,  an'  I  like  the  girl.  Yer  bet  I  do, 
an'  I  'm  damn  glad  that  Farnham  's  knocked  out. 
Shore,  I  '11  help  the  both  o'  yer.  I  reckon  Stutter  'd 
be  no  good  as  a  guide  ter-night,  but  I  kin  show  yer 
the  way  down  the  ravine.  The  rest  is  just  ridin'. 
Yer  kin  leave  them  hosses  with  the  section-boss  at 
Daggett  till  I  come  fer  'em." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ACROSS  THE  DESERT  TO  THE  END 

NEVER  in  the  after  years  could  Winston  clearly 
recall  the  incidents  of  that  night's  ride  across 
the  sand  waste.  The  haze  which  shrouded  his 
brain  would  never  wholly  lift.  Except  for  a  few 
detached  details  the  surroundings  of  that  journey 
remained  vague,  clouded,  indistinct.  He  remembered 
the  great,  burning  desert ;  the  stars  gleaming  down  above 
them  like  many  eyes ;  the  ponderous,  ragged  edge 
of  cloud  in  the  west ;  the  irregular,  castellated  range  of 
hills  at  their  back;  the  dull  expanse  of  plain  ever 
stretching  away  in  front,  with  no  boundary  other  than 
that  southern  sky.  The  weird,  ghostly  shadows  of 
cactus  and  Spanish  bayonet  were  everywhere ;  strange, 
eerie  noises  were  borne  to  them  out  of  the  void  —  the 
distant  cries  of  prowling  wolves,  the  mournful  sough 
of  the  night  wind,  the  lonely  hoot  of  some  far-off  owl. 
Nothing  greeted  the  roving  eyes  but  desolation,— 
a  desolation  utter  and  complete,  a  mere  waste  of  tum 
bled  sand,  by  daylight  whitened  here  and  there  by 
irregular  patches  of  alkali,  but  under  the  brooding 
night  shadows  lying  brown,  dull,  forlorn  beyond  all 
expression,  a  trackless,  deserted  ocean  of  mystery, 
oppressive  in  its  drear  sombreness. 

He  rode  straight  south,  seeking  no  trail,  but  guiding 
their  course  by  the  stars,  his  right  hand  firmly  grasping 


ACROSS    THE    DESERT 

the  pony's  bit,  and  continually  urging  his  own 
mount  to  faster  pace.  The  one  thought  dominating 
his  mind  was  the  urgent  necessity  for  haste  —  a  savage 
determination  to  intercept  that  early  train  eastward. 
Beyond  this  single  idea  his  brain  seemed  in  hopeless 
turmoil,  seemed  failing  him.  Any  delay  meant  dan 
ger,  discovery,  the  placing  of  her  very  life  in  peril. 
He  could  grasp  that ;  he  could  plan,  guide,  act  in  every 
way  the  part  of  a  man  under  its  inspiration,  but  all  else 
appeared  chaos.  The  future  ?  —  there  was  no  future ; 
there  never  again  could  be.  The  chasm  of  a  thousand 
years  had  suddenly  yawned  between  him  and  this 
woman.  It  made  his  head  reel  merely  to  gaze  down 
into  those  awful  depths.  It  could  not  be  bridged  ;  no 
sacrifice,  no  compensation  might  ever  undo  that  fatal 
death-shot.  He  did  not  blame  her,  he  did  not  ques 
tion  her  justification,  but  he  understood  —  together 
they  faced  the  inevitable.  There  was  no  escape,  no 
clearing  of  the  record.  There  was  nothing  left  him  to 
do  except  this,  this  riding  through  the  night  —  abso 
lutely  nothing.  Once  he  had  guided  her  into  safety 
all  was  done, —  done  forever ;  there  remained  to  him 
no  other  hope,  ambition,  purpose,  in  all  this  world. 
The  desert  about  them  typified  that  forthcoming  exist 
ence —  barren,  devoid  of  life,  dull,  and  dead.  He  set 
his  teeth  savagely  to  keep  back  the  moan  of  despair 
that  rose  to  his  lips,  half  lifting  himself  in  the  stirrups 
to  glance  back  toward  her. 

If  she  perceived  anything  there  was  not  the  slightest 
reflection  of  it  within  her  eyes.  Lustreless,  undeviating, 
they  were  staring  directly  ahead  into  the  gloom,  her 


BETH    NORVELL 

face  white  and  almost  devoid  of  expression.  The  sight  of 
it  turned  him  cold  and  sick,  his  unoccupied  handgripping 
the  saddle-pommel  as  though  he  would  crush  the  leather. 
Yet  he  did  not  speak,  for  there  was  nothing  to  say.  Be 
tween  these  two  was  a  fact,  grim,  awful,  unchange 
able.  Fronting  it,  words  were  meaningless,  pitiable. 

He  had  never  before  known  that  she  could  ride, 
but  he  knew  it  now.  His  eye  noted  the  security  of 
her  seat  in  the  saddle,  the  easy  swaying  of  her  slender 
form  to  the  motion  of  the  pony,  in  apparent  uncon 
sciousness  of  the  hard  travelling  or  the  rapidity  of  their 
progress.  She  had  drawn  back  the  long  tresses  of  her 
hair  and  fastened  them  in  place  by  some  process  of  mys 
tery,  so  that  now  her  face  was  revealed  unshadowed, 
clearly  defined  in  the  starlight.  Dazed,  expressionless, 
as  it  appeared,  looking  strangely  deathlike  in  that  faint 
radiance,  he  loved  it,  his  moistened  eyes  fondly  tracing 
every  exposed  lineament.  God !  but  this  fair  woman 
was  all  the  world  to  him  !  In  spite  of  everything,  his 
heart  went  forth  to  her  unchanged.  It  was  Fate,  not 
lack  of  love  or  loyalty,  that  now  set  them  apart,  that 
had  made  of  their  future  a  path  of  bitterness.  In  his 
groping  mind  he  rebelled  against  it,  vainly  searching 
for  some  way  out,  urging  blindly  that  love  could  even 
blot  out  this  thing  in  time,  could  erase  the  crime,  leav 
ing  them  as  though  it  had  never  been.  Yet  he  knew 
better.  Once  she  spoke  out  of  the  haunting  silence, 
her  voice  sounding  strange,  her  eyes  still  fixed  in  that 
same  vacant  stare  ahead  into  the  gloom. 

"Isn't  this  Mercedes'  pony?  I  —  I  thought  she 
rode  away  on  him  herself? " 

[3'4] 


ACROSS    THE    DESERT 

With  the  words  the  recollection  recurred  to  him  that 
she  did  not  yet  know  about  that  other  tragedy.  It  was 
a  hard  task,  but  he  met  it  bravely.  Quietly  as  he  might, 
he  told  the  sad  story  in  so  far  as  he  understood  it  — 
the  love,  the  sacrifice,  the  suffering.  As  she  listened 
her  head  drooped  ever  lower,  and  he  saw  the  glitter  of 
tears  falling  unchecked.  He  was  glad  she  could  cry ; 
it  was  better  than  that  dull,  dead  stare.  As  he  made 
an  end,  picturing  the  sorrowing  Stutter  kneeling  in  his 
silent  watch  at  the  bedside,  she  looked  gravely  across 
to  him,  the  moisture  clinging  to  the  long  lashes. 

"It  was  better  so  —  far  better.  I  know  how  she  felt, 
for  she  has  told  me.  God  was  merciful  to  her;"  the 
soft  voice  broke  into  a  sob  ;  "for  me,  there  is  no  mercy." 

"  Beth,  don't  say  that !  Little  woman,  don't  say 
that !  The  future  is  long ;  it  may  yet  lead  to  happi 
ness.  A  true  love  can  outlast  even  the  memory  of 
this  night." 

She  shook  her  head  wearily,  sinking  back  into  the 
saddle. 

"Yes,"  she  said  soberly,  "love  may,  and  I  believe 
will,  outlast  all.  It  is  immortal.  But  even  love  can 
not  change  the  deed ;  nothing  ever  can,  nothing  —  no 
power  of  God  or  man." 

He  did  not  attempt  to  answer,  knowing  in  the  depths 
of  his  own  heart  that  her  words  were  true.  For  an 
instant  she  continued  gazing  at  him,  as  though  trustful 
he  might  speak,  might  chance  to  utter  some  word  of 
hope  that  had  not  come  to  her.  Then  the  uplifted 
head  drooped  wearily,  the  searching  eyes  turning  away 
to  stare  once  again  straight  ahead.  His  very  silence 

D '5] 


BETH    NORVELL 

was  acknowledgment  of  the  truth,  the  utter  hopeless 
ness  of  the  future.  Although  living,  there  lay  between 
them  the  gulf  of  death. 

Gray,  misty,  and  silent  came  the  dawn,  stealing 
across  the  wide  desolation  like  some  ghostly  presence 
—  the  dawn  of  a  day  which  held  for  these  two  nothing 
except  despair.  They  greeted  its  slow  coming  with 
dulled,  wearied  eyes,  unwelcoming.  Drearier  amid 
that  weird  twilight  than  in  the  concealing  darkness 
stretched  the  desolate  waste  of  encircling  sand,  its  hid 
eous  loneliness  rendered  more  apparent,  its  scars  of 
alkali  disfiguring  the  distance,  its  gaunt  cacti  looking 
deformed  and  merciless.  The  horses  moved  forward 
beneath  the  constant  urging  of  the  spur,  worn  from 
fatigue,  their  heads  drooping,  their  flanks  wet,  their 
dragging  hoofs  ploughing  the  sand.  The  woman  never 
changed  her  posture,  never  seemed  to  realize  the 
approach  of  dawn ;  but  Winston  roused  up,  lifting  his 
head  to  gaze  wearily  forward.  Beneath  the  gray,  out 
spreading  curtain  of  light  he  saw  before  them  the  dingy 
red  of  a  small  section-house,  with  a  huge,  rusty  water- 
tank  outlined  against  the  sky.  Lower  down  a  little 
section  of  vividly  green  grass  seemed  fenced  about  by 
a  narrow  stream  of  running  water.  At  first  glimpse  he 
deemed  it  a  mirage,  and  rubbed  his  half-blinded  eyes 
to  make  sure.  Then  he  knew  they  had  ridden  straight 
through  the  night,  and  that  this  was  Daggett  Station. 

He  helped  her  down  from  the  saddle  without  a  word, 
without  the  exchange  of  a  glance,  steadying  her  gently 
as  she  stood  trembling,  and  finally  half  carried  her  in 
his  arms  across  the  little  platform  to  the  rest  of  a  rude 


ACROSS    THE    DESERT 

bench.  The  horses  he  turned  loose  to  seek  their  own 
pasturage  and  water,  and  then  came  back,  uncertain, 
filled  with  vague  misgiving,  to  where  she  sat,  staring 
wide-eyed  out  into  the  desolation  of  sand.  He  brought 
with  him  a  tin  cup  filled  with  water,  and  placed  it  in 
her  hand.  She  drank  it  down  thirstily. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  her  voice  sounding  more 
natural. 

"  Is  there  nothing  else,  Beth  ?  Could  you  eat  any 
thing?  " 

"No,  nothing.  I  am  just  tired  —  oh,  so  tired  in 
both  body  and  brain.  Let  me  sit  here  in  quiet  until 
the  train  comes.  Will  that  be  long?  " 

He  pointed  far  off  toward  the  westward,  along  those 
parallel  rails  now  beginning  to  gleam  in  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  On  the  outer  rim  of  the  desert  a  black  spiral  of 
smoke  was  curling  into  the  horizon. 

"  It  is  coming  now;  we  had  but  little  time  to  spare." 

"Is  that  a  fast  train?  Are  you  certain  it  will  stop 
here  ? " 

"To  both  questions,  yes,"  he  replied,  relieved  to 
see  her  exhibit  some  returning  interest.  "  They  all 
stop  here  for  water ;  it  is  a  long  run  from  this  place  to 
Boltoii  Junction." 

She  said  nothing  in  reply,  her  gaze  far  down  the 
track  where  those  spirals  of  smoke  were  constantly 
becoming  more  plainly  visible.  In  the  increasing  light 
of  the  morning  he  could  observe  how  the  long  night 
had  marked  her  face  with  new  lines  of  weariness,  had 
brought  to  it  new  shadows  of  care.  It  was  not  alone 
the  dulled,  lustreless  eyes,  but  also  those  hollows  under 

[317] 


BETH    NORVELL 

them,  and  the  drawn  lips,  all  combining  to  tell  the 
story  of  physical  fatigue,  and  a  heart-sickness  well-nigh 
unendurable.  Unable  to  bear  the  sight,  Winston  turned 
away,  walking  to  the  end  of  the  short  platform,  staring 
off  objectless  into  the  grim  desert,  fighting  manfully  in 
an  effort  to  conquer  himself.  This  was  a  struggle,  a 
remorseless  struggle,  for  both  of  them ;  he  must  do 
nothing,  say  nothing,  which  should  weaken  her,  or  add 
an  ounce  to  her  burden.  He  came  back  again,  his  lips 
firmly  closed  in  repression. 

"  Our  train  is  nearly  here,"  he  said  in  lack  of  some 
thing  better  with  which  to  break  the  constrained  silence. 

She  glanced  about  doubtfully,  first  toward  the  yet 
distant  train,  then  up  into  his  face. 

"  When  is  the  local  east  due  here  ?    Do  you  know  ?  " 

"Probably  an  hour  later  than  the  express.  At  least,  I 
judge  so  from  the  time  of  its  arrival  at  Bolton,"  he  res 
ponded,  surprised  at  the  question.  "Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

She  did  not  smile,  or  stir,  except  to  lean  slightly  for 
ward,  her  eyes  falling  from  his  face  to  the  platform. 

"  Would — would  it  be  too  much  if  I  were  to  ask  you 
to  permit  me  to  take  this  first  train  alone  ? "  she  asked, 
her  voice  faltering,  her  hands  trembling  where  they 
were  clasped  in  her  lap. 

His  first  bewildered  surprise  precluded  speech ;  he 
could  only  look  at  her  in  stupefied  amazement.  Then 
something  within  her  lowered  face  touched  him  with 
pity. 

"Beth,"  he  exclaimed,  hardly  aware  of  the  words 
used,  "do  you  mean  that?  Is  it  your  wish  that  we 
part  here?" 


ACROSS    THE    DESERT 

"  Oh,  no,  not  that ! "  and  she  rose  hastily,  holding 
to  the  back  of  the  bench  with  one  hand,  and  extending 
the  other.  "  Do  not  put  it  in  that  way.  Such  an  act 
would  be  cruel,  unwarranted.  But  I  am  so  tired,  so 
completely  broken  down.  It  has  seemed  all  night  long 
as  though  my  brain  were  on  fire ;  every  step  of  the 
horse  has  been  torture.  Oh,  I  want  so  to  be  alone- 
alone  !  I  want  to  think  this  out ;  I  want  to  face  it  all 
by  myself.  Merciful  God  !  it  seems  to  me  I  shall  be 
driven  insane  unless  I  can  be  alone,  unless  I  can  find 
a  way  into  some  peace  of  soul.  Do  not  blame  me ;  do 
not  look  at  me  like  that,  but  be  merciful — if  you  still 
love  me,  let  me  be  alone." 

He  grasped  the  extended  hand,  bending  low  over 
it,  unwilling  in  that  instant  that  she  should  look  upon 
his  face.  Again  and .  again  he  pressed  his  dry  lips 
upon  the  soft  flesh. 

"  I  do  love  you,  Beth,"  he  said  at  last,  chokingly, 
"  love  you  always,  in  spite  of  everything.  I  will  do 
now  as  you  say.  Your  train  is  already  here.  You 
know  my  address  in  Denver.  Don't  make  this  for 
ever,  Beth  —  don't  do  that." 

She  did  not  answer  him ;  her  lips  quivered,  her 
eyes  meeting  his  for  a  single  instant.  In  their  depths 
he  believed  he  read  the  answer  of  her  heart,  and 
endeavored  to  be  content.  As  the  great  overland 
train  paused  for  a  moment  to  quench  its  thirst,  the 
porter  of  the  Pullman,  who,  to  his  surprise,  had  been 
called  to  place  his  carpeted  step  on  the  platform  of 
this  desert  station,  gazed  in  undisguised  amazement  at 
those  two  figures  before  him — a  man  bareheaded,  his 


BETH    NORVELL 

clothing  tattered  and  disreputable,  half  supporting  a 
woman  who  was  hatless,  white-faced,  and  trembling 
like  a  frightened  child. 

"Yas,  sah;  whole  section  vacant,  sah,  Numhan 
Five.  Denvah  ;  yas,  sah,  suttinly.  Oh,  I'll  look  after 
de  lady  all  right.  You  ain't  a-goin'  'long  wid  us,  den, 
dis  trip?  Oh,  yas;  thank  ye,  sah.  Sure,  I'll  see  dat 
she  gits  dere,  don't  you  worry  none  'bout  dat." 

Winston  walked  restlessly  down  the  platform,  gazing 
up  at  the  car-windows,  every  ounce  of  his  mustered 
resolve  necessary  to  hold  him  outwardly  calm.  The 
curtains  were  many  of  them  closed,  but  at  last  he  dis 
tinguished  her,  leaning  against  the  glass,  that  same  dull, 
listless  look  in  her  eyes  as  she  stared  out  blindly  across 
the  waste  of  sand.  As  the  train  started  he  touched  the 
window,  and  she  turned  and  saw  him.  There  was  a 
single  moment  when  life  came  flashing  back  into  her 
eyes,  when  he  believed  her  lips  even  smiled  at  him. 
Then  he  was  alone,  gazing  down  the  track  after  the 
fast  disappearing  train. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  SUMMIT  OF  SUCCESS 

THERE  followed  three  years  of  silence,  three 
years  of  waiting  for  that  message  which  never 
came.  As  though  she  had  dropped  into  an 
ocean  of  oblivion,  Beth  Norvell  disappeared.  Winston 
had  no  longer  the  slightest  hope  that  a  word  from  her 
would  ever  come,  and  there  were  times  when  he 
wondered  if  it  was  not  better  so — if,  after  all,  she  had 
not  chosen  rightly.  Love  untarnished  lived  in  his 
heart;  yet,  as  she  had  told  him  out  in  the  desert,  love 
could  never  change  the  deed.  That  remained  —  black, 
grim,  unblotted,  the  unalterable  death  stain.  Why, 
then,  should  they  meet?  Why  seek  even  to  know  of 
each  other  ?  Close  together,  or  far  apart,  there  yawned 
a  bottomless  gulf  between.  Silence  was  better;  silence, 
and  the  mercy  of  partial  forgetfulness. 

Winston  had  toiled  hard  during  those  years,  partly 
from  a  natural  liking,  partly  to  forget  his  heartaches. 
Feverishly  he  had  taken  up  the  tasks  confronting  him, 
sinking  self  in  the  thought  of  other  things.  Such  work 
had  conquered  success,  for  he  did  his  part  in  subjecting 
nature  to  man,  thus  winning  a  reputation  already  ranking 
him  high  among  the  mining  experts  of  the  West.  His 
had  become  a  name  to  conjure  with  in  the  mountains 
and  mining  camps.  During  the  long  months  he  had 
hoped  fiercely .  Yet  he  had  made  no  endeavor  to  seek  her 


BETH    NORVELL 

out,  or  to  uncover  her  secret.  Deep  within  his  heart 
lay  a  respect  for  her  choice,  and  he  would  have  held 
it  almost  a  crime  to  invade  the  privacy  that  her  con 
tinued  silence  had  created.  So  he  resolutely  locked  the 
secret  within  his  own  soul,  becoming  more  quiet  in 
manner,  more  reserved  in  speech,  with  every  long 
month  of  waiting,  constantly  striving  to  forget  the 
past  amid  a  multitude  of  business  and  professional 
cares. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  winter's  day  in  Chicago. 
Snow  clouds  were  scurrying  in  from  over  the  dun- 
colored  waters  of  the  lake,  bringing  with  them  an  early 
twilight.  Already  myriads  of  lights  were  twinkling  in 
the  high  office  buildings,  and  showing  brilliant  above 
the  smooth  asphalt  of  Michigan  Avenue.  The  end 
less  stream  of  vehicles  homeward  bound  began  to 
thicken,  the  broad  highway  became  a  scene  of  continu 
ous  motion  and  display.  After  hastily  consulting  the 
ponderous  pages  of  a  city  directory  in  an  adjacent  drug 
store,  a  young  man,  attired  in  dark  business  suit,  his 
broad  shoulders  those  of  an  athlete,  his  face  strongly 
marked  and  full  of  character,  and  bronzed  even  at  this 
season  by  out-of-door  living,  hurried  across  the  street 
and  entered  the  busy  doorway  of  the  Railway  Exchange 
Building.  On  the  seventh  floor  he  unceremoniously 
flung  open  a  door  bearing  the  number  sought,  and 
stepped  within  to  confront  the  office  boy,  who  as 
instantly  frowned  his  disapproval. 

"Office  hours  over,"  the  latter  announced  shortly. 
"Just  shuttin'  up." 

"  I  am  not  here  on  business,  my  lad,"  was  the  good- 
[322] 


THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS 

natured  reply,  "  but  in  the  hope  of  catching  Mr.  Craig 
before  he  got  away." 

The  boy,  still  somewhat  doubtful,  jerked  his  hand 
back  across  his  shoulder  toward  an  inner  apartment. 

"Well,  his  nibs  is  in  there,  but  he's  just  a-goin'." 

The  visitor  swung  aside  the  gate  and  entered.  The 
man  within,  engaged  in  closing  down  his  roll-top  desk 
for  the  day,  wheeled  about  in  his  chair,  quite  evidently 
annoyed  by  so  late  a  caller.  An  instant  he  looked  at 
the  face,  partially  shadowed  in  the  dim  light,  then 
sprang  to  his  feet,  both  hands  cordially  extended. 

"  Ned  Winston,  by  all  the  gods  ! "  he  exclaimed,  his 
voice  full  of  heartiness.  "  Say,  but  I  'm  glad  to  see 
you,  old  man.  Supposed  it  was  some  bore  wanting  to 
talk  business,  and  this  happens  to  be  my  busy  night. 
By  Jove,  thought  I  never  was  going  to  break  away 
from  this  confounded  desk  —  always  like  that  when  a 
fellow  has  a  date.  How  are  you,  anyhow  ?  Looking 
fine  as  a  fiddle.  In  shape  to  kick  the  pigskin  at  this 
minute,  I  '11  bet  a  hundred.  Denver  yet,  I  suppose  ? 
Must  be  a  great  climate  out  there,  if  you  're  a  speci 
men.  Must  like  it,  anyhow;  why,  you've  simply 
buried  yourself  in  the  mountains.  Some  of  the  old 
fellows  were  in  here  talking  about  it  the  other  day. 
Have  n't  been  East  before  for  a  couple  of  years,  have 
you,  Ned  ?" 

"  Considerably  over  three,  Bob,  and  only  on  urgent 
business  now.  Have  been  hard  at  it  all  day,  but 
thought  I  would  take  a  chance  at  finding  you  in,  even 
at  this  hour.  Knew  your  natural  inclination  to  grind, 
you  know.  I  take  a  train  for  the  West  at  midnight." 

[323] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"Well,  I  rather  guess  not,"  and  Craig  picked  up  his 
hat  from  the  top  of  the  desk.  "  Do  you  imagine  I  '11 
let  go  of  you  that  easily,  now  that  you  are  here? 
Well,  hardly.  You  Ve  got  to  give  up  that  excursion 
for  one  night  at  least,  even  if  I  'm  compelled  to  get  you 
jugged  in  order  to  hold  you  safe.  I  can  do  it,  too  ;  I 
have  a  pull  with  the  police  department.  My  auto 
mobile  fines  are  making  them  rich." 

"  But  you  just  mentioned  having  an  engagement,  or 
rather  a  date,  which  I  suppose  means  the  same  thing." 

Craig  smiled  indulgently,  his  dark  eyes  filled  with 
humor. 

"  That 's  exactly  the  ticket.  Glad  to  see  you  keep 
up  with  the  slang  of  the  day ;  proof  you  live  in  the  real 
world,  possess  a  normal  mind,  and  feel  an  interest  in 
current  events.  Altogether  most  commendable.  That 
engagement  of  mine  happens  to  be  the  very  thing  I 
want  you  for.  Most  glorious  event  in  our  family  his 
tory,  at  least  within  my  remembrance.  My  birth 
probably  transcended  even  this  in  importance,  but  the 
details  are  not  clear.  You  will  add  'eclat  to  the  occasion. 
By  Jove,  it  will  be  immense  ;  paterfamilias  and  mater- 
ditto  will  welcome  you  with  open  arms.  They  often 
speak  of  you;  'pon  my  word  they  do,  and  I  don't 
know  of  another  fellow  anywhere  they  'd  rather  have 
join  in  our  little  family  celebration.  Oh,  this  is  a  great 
night  for  Old  Ireland.  Stay?  Why,  confound  it,  of 
course  you  '11  stay !  " 

"  But  see  here,  Bob,  at  least  give  me  the  straight  of 
all  this.  What 's  happening  ?  What  is  it  you  are 
stacking  me  up  against?" 


THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS 

"  Box  party  at  the  Grand.  Here,  have  a  cigar.  Just  a 
family  affair,  you  know.  First  night ;  certain  to  be  a  swell 
crowd  there  ;  everything  sold  out  in  advance.  Supper 
afterwards,  private  dining-room  at  the  Annex — just  our 
selves  ;  no  guests,  except  only  the  Star  and  her  manager." 

"  The  Star  ?  I  never  heard  that  you  people  went  in 
for  theatricals  ? " 

"  Lord  !  they  never  did ;  but  they  Ve  experienced 
a  change  of  heart.  You  see,  Lizzie  took  to  it  like  a 
duck  to  water — she  was  the  baby,  the  kid,  you  know  — 
and,  by  thunder,  the  little  girl  made  good.  She  's  got 
'em  coming  and  going,  and  the  pater  is  so  proud  of 
her  he  wears  a  smile  on  him  that  won't  come  off.  It's 
simply  great  just  to  see  him  beau  her  around  down 
town,  shedding  real  money  at  every  step.  Nothing 
is  too  good  for  Lizzie  just  now. " 

"And  she  is  the  Star?" 

"  Sure,  and  the  lassie  is  going  to  have  an  ovation, 
unless  all  signs  fail.  Society  has  got  a  hunch,  and 
that  means  a  gorgeous  turnout.  The  horse-show  will 
be  a  back  number.  Lord,  man,  you  can't  afford  to 
miss  it!  Why,  you  'd  never  see  anything  like  it  in 
Denver  in  a  thousand  years." 

Winston  laughed,  unable  to  resist  entirely  the  con 
tagious  enthusiasm  of  his  friend. 

"You  certainly  make  a  strong  bid,  Bob;  but  really 
if  I  did  remain  overnight  I  'd  much  prefer  putting 
in  the  hours  talking  over  old  times.  With  all  due 
respect  to  your  sister,  old  boy,  I  confess  I  have  n't 
very  much  heart  for  the  stage.  I  've  grown  away  from 
it;  have  n't  even  looked  into  a  playhouse  for  years." 

[325] 


BETH     NORVELL 

"Thought  as  much;  clear  over  the  head  in  busi 
ness.  Big  mistake  at  your  age.  A  night  such  as 
Lizzie  can  give  you  will  be  a  revelation.  Say,  Ned, 
that  girl  is  an  actress.  I  don't  say  it  because  she  's  my 
sister,  but  she  actually  is ;  they  're  all  raving  over  her, 
even  the  critics.  That 's  one  reason  why  I  want  you 
to  stay.  I  'm  blame  proud  of  my  little  sister." 

"  But  I  have  n't  my  evening  dress  within  a  thousand 
miles  of  here." 

"What  of  that?  I  have  no  time  now  to  run  out 
to  the  house  and  get  into  mine.  I  'm  no  lightning 
change  artist.  Lizzie  won't  care ;  she  's  got  good  sense, 
and  the  others  can  go  hang.  Come  on,  Ned ;  we  '11  run 
over  to  the  Chicago  Club  and  have  a  bite,  then  a 
smoke  and  chat  about  Alma  Mater;  after  that,  the 
Grand." 


The  great  opera  house  was  densely  crowded  from  pit 
to  dome,  the  boxes  and  parquet  brilliant  with  color  and 
fashion,  the  numberless  tiers  of  seats  rising  above, 
black  with  packed,  expectant  humanity.  Before  eight 
o'clock  late  comers  had  been  confronted  in  the  lobby 
with  the  "Standing  Room  Only"  announcement;  and 
now  even  this  had  been  turned  to  the  wall,  while  the  man 
at  the  ticket  window  shook  his  head  to  disappointed 
inquirers.  And  that  was  an  audience  to  be  remembered, 
to  be  held  notable,  to  be  editorially  commented  upon 
by  the  press  the  next  morning. 

There  was  reason  for  it.  A  child  of  Chicago, 
daughter  in  a  family  of  standing  and  exclusiveness, 

[326] 


THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS 

after  winning  notable  successes  in  San  Francisco,  in 
London,  in  New  York,  had,  at  last,  consented  to  return 
home,  and  appear  for  the  first  time  in  her  native  city. 
Endowed  with  rare  gifts  of  interpretation,  earnest,  sin 
cere,  forceful,  loving  her  work  fervently,  possessing  an 
attractive  presence  and  natural  capacity  for  study,  she 
had  long  since  won  the  appreciation  of  the  critics  and 
the  warm  admiration  of  those  who  care  for  the  highest 
in  dramatic  art.  The  reward  was  assured.  Already 
her  home-coming  had  been  heralded  broadcast  as  an 
event  of  consequence  to  the  great  city.  Her  name 
was  upon  the  lips  of  the  multitude,  and  upon  the 
hearts  of  those  who  really  care  for  such  things,  the 
devotees  of  art,  of  high  endeavor,  of  a  stage  worthy 
the  traditions  of  its  past.  And  in  her  case,  in  addition 
to  all  these  helpful  elements,  Society  grew  suddenly 
interested  and  enthralled.  The  actress  became  a 
fashion,  a  fad,  about  which  revolved  the  courtier  and 
the  butterfly.  Once,  it  was  remembered,  she  had  been 
one  of  them,  one  of  their  own  set,  and  out  of  the  depths 
of  their  little  pool  they  rose  clamorously  to  the  surface, 
imagining,  as  ever,  that  they  were  the  rightful  leaders 
of  it  all.  Thus  it  came  about,  that  first  night  —  the 
stage  brilliant,  the  house  a  dense  mass  of  mad  enthusi 
asts,  jewelled  heads  nodding  from  boxes  to  parquet  in 
recognition  of  friends,  opera  glasses  insolently  staring, 
voices  humming  in  ceaseless  conversation,  and,  over 
all,  the  frantic  efforts  of  the  orchestra  to  attract  atten 
tion  to  itself  amid  the  glitter  and  display. 

Utterly  indifferent  to  all  of  it,  Ned  Winston  leaned 
his  elbow  on  the  brass  rail  of  the  first  box,  "and  gazed 

[327] 


BETH    NORVELL 

idly  about  over  that  sea  of  unknown  faces.  He  would 
have  much  preferred  not  being  there.  To  him,  the 
theatre  served  merely  as  a  stimulant  to  unpleasant 
memory.  It  was  in  this  atmosphere  that  the  ghost 
walked,  and  those  hidden  things  of  life  came  back  to 
mock  him.  He  might  forget,  sometimes,  bending 
above  his  desk,  or  struggling  against  the  perplexing 
problems  of  his  profession  in  the  field,  but  not  here ; 
not  in  the  glare  of  the  footlights,  amid  the  hum  of  the 
crowd.  He  crushed  the  unread  programme  within  his 
hand,  striving  to  converse  carelessly  with  the  lady  sit 
ting  next  to  him,  whom  he  was  expected  to  entertain. 
But  his  thoughts  were  afar  off,  his  eyes  seeing  a  gray, 
misty,  silent  expanse  of  desert,  growing  constantly 
clearer  in  its  hideous  desolation  before  the  advancing 
dawn. 

The  vast  steel  curtain  arose  with  apparent  reluctance 
to  the  top  of  the  proscenium  arch,  the  chatter  of  voices 
ceased,  somewhat  permitting  the  struggling  orchestra 
to  make  itself  felt  and  heard.  Winston  shut  his  teeth, 
and  waited  uneasily,  the  hand  upon  the  rail  clenched. 
Even  more  than  he  had  ever  expected,  awakened  mem 
ory  tortured.  He  would  have  gone  out  into  the  soli 
tude  of  the  street,  except  for  the  certainty  of  disturbing 
others.  The  accompanying  music  became  faster  as 
the  inner  curtain  slowly  rose,  revealing  the  great  stage 
set  for  the  first  act.  He  looked  at  it  carelessly, 
indifferently,  his  thoughts  elsewhere,  yet  dimly  con 
scious  of  the  sudden  hush  all  about  him,  the  leaning 
forward  of  figures  intent  upon  catching  the  opening 
words.  The  scene  portrayed  was  that  of  a  picturesque 


THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS 

Swiss  mountain  village.  It  was  brilliant  in  coloring, 
and  superbly  staged.  For  a  moment  the  scenery, 
with  great  snow-capped  peaks  for  background,  caught 
his  attention.  It  was  realistic,  beautifully  faithful  to 
nature,  and  he  felt  his  heart  throb  with  sudden  longing 
to  be  home,  to  be  once  more  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Rockies.  But  the  actors  did  not  interest  him,  and  his 
thoughts  again  drifted  far  afield. 

The  act  was  nearly  half  finished  before  the  Star 
made  her  appearance.  Suddenly  the  door  of  the  chalet 
opened,  and  a  young  woman  emerged,  attired  in  peas 
ant  costume,  carelessly  swinging  a  hat  in  her  hand,  her 
bright  face  smiling,  her  slender  figure  perfectly  poised. 
She  advanced  to  the  very  centre  of  the  wide  stage. 
The  myriad  of  lights  rippled  over  her,  revealing  the 
deep  brown  of  her  abundant  hair,  the  dark,  earnest 
eyes,  the  sweet  winsomeness  of  expression.  This  was 
the  moment  for  which  that  vast  audience  had  been 
waiting.  Like  an  instantaneous  explosion  of  artillery 
came  the  thunder  of  applause.  Her  first  attempted 
speech  lost  in  that  outburst  of  acclaim,  the  actress 
stood  before  them  bowing  and  smiling,  the  red  blood 
surging  into  her  unrouged  cheeks,  her  dark  eyes  flash 
ing  like  two  diamonds.  Again  and  again  the  house 
rose  to  her,  the  noise  of  greeting  was  deafening,  and  a 
perfect  avalanche  of  flowers  covered  the  stage.  From 
boxes,  from  parquet,  from  crowded  balcony,  from  top 
most  gallery  the  enthusiastic  outburst  came,  spontane 
ous,  ever  growing  in  volume  of  sound,  apparently 
never  ending.  She  looked  out  upon  them  almost 
appealingly,  her  hands  outstretched  in  greeting,  her 


BETH  NORVELL 

eyes  filling  with  tears.  Slowly,  as  if  drawn  toward  them 
by  some  impulse  of  gratitude,  she  came  down  to  the  foot 
lights,  and  stood  there  bowing  to  left  and  right,  the 
deep  swelling  of  her  bosom  evidencing  her  agitation. 

As  though  some  sudden  remembrance  had  occurred 
to  her  in  the  midst  of  that  turmoil,  of  what  all  this 
must  mean  to  others,  to  those  of  her  own  blood,  she 
turned  to  glance  lovingly  toward  that  box  in  which 
they  sat.  Instantly  she  went  white,  her  hands  pressing 
her  breast,  her  round  throat  swelling  as  though  the 
effort  of  breathing  choked  her.  Possibly  out  in  front 
they  thought  it  acting,  perhaps  a  sudden  nervous  col 
lapse,  for  as  she  half  reeled  backward  to  the  support 
of  a  bench,  the  clamor  died  away  into  dull  murmur. 
Almost  with  the  ceasing  of  tumult  she  was  upon  her 
feet  again,  her  lips  still  white,  her  face  drawn  as  if  in 
pain.  Before  the  startled  audience  could  awaken  and 
realize  the  truth,  she  had  commenced  the  speaking  of 
her  lines,  forcing  them  into  silence,  into  a  hushed  and 
breathless  expectancy. 

Winston  sat  leaning  forward,  his  hand  gripping  the 
rail,  staring  at  her.  But  for  that  one  slender  figure  the 
entire  stage  before  him  was  a  blank.  Suddenly  he 
caught  Craig  by  the  arm. 

"Who  is  that  ?  "  he  questioned,  sharply.  "  The  one 
in  the  costume  of  a  peasant  girl?  " 

"Who  is  it?  Are  you  crazy?  Why,  that's 
Lizzie ;  read  your  programme,  man.  She  must  have 
had  a  faint  spell  just  now.  By  Jove,  I  thought  for  a 
moment  she  was  going  to  flop.  You  're  looking  pretty 
white  about  the  lips  yourself;  ain't  sick,  are  you  ?  " 

[330] 


THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS 

He  shook  his  head,  sinking  back"  into  his  seat. 
Hastily  he  opened  the  pages  of  the  crushed  programme, 
his  hand  shaking  so  he  was  scarcely  able  to  decipher 
the  printed  lines.  Ah !  there  it  was  in  black-faced 
type:  "  Renee  la  Roux  —  Miss  Beth  Norvell" 


[330 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  MISSION  OF  A  LETTER 

ALL  through  the  remainder  of  the  play  he  sat  as 
one  stunned,  scarcely  removing  his  eyes  from 
the  glittering   stage,  yet  seeing   nothing  there 
excepting  her.     He  could  not  later   have  recalled  a 
single  scene.     Between  the  acts  he  conversed  rationally 
enough    with    those    about    him,    congratulating  her 
people  upon  the  brilliant  success  of  the  evening,  and 
warmly  commending  the  work  of  the  Star.     Yet  this 
was  all  mechanical,  automatic,  his  mind  scarcely  realiz 
ing  its  own  action. 

She  never  glanced  in  that  direction  again ;  during  all 
the  four  acts  not  once  did  she  permit  her  eyes  to  rest 
upon  their  box.  The  others  may  not  have  noticed 
the  omission,  but  he  did,  his  interpretation  of  the 
action  becoming  a  pain.  It  served  to  strengthen  the 
resolve  which  was  taking  possession  of  him.  He 
noticed,  also,  that  she  played  feverishly,  vehemently, 
not  with  that  quiet  restraint,  that  promise  of  reserve 
power,  always  so  noticeable  in  the  old  days.  It  caused 
him  to  realize  that  she  was  working  upon  her  nerves, 
holding  herself  up  to  the  strain  by  the  sheer  strength 
of  will.  The  papers  the  next  day  commented  upon 
this,  hinting  at  nervousness,  at  exhilaration  consequent 
upon  so  notable  a  greeting.  But  Winston  knew  the 
cause  better — he  knew  the  spectre  which  had  so  suddenly 

[332] 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    LETTER 

risen  before  her,  turning  her  white  and  frightened 
at  the  very  moment  of  supreme  triumph.  There,  in 
front  of  them  all,  under  the  full  glare  of  the  lights, 
herself  the  very  focus  of  thousands  of  eyes,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  fight  down  her  heart,  and  win  a 
victory  greater  than  that  of  the  actress.  In  that 
instant  she  had  conquered  herself,  had  trodden,  smiling 
and  confident,  over  the  awakened  memories  of  the  past. 
After  the  curtain  had  fallen  —  fallen  and  lifted,  again 
and  again,  to  permit  of  her  standing  in  the  glare, 
smiling  happily,  and  kissing  her  hands  toward  the 
enthusiastic  multitude  —  he  passed  out  with  the  others, 
still  partially  dazed,  his  mind  remaining  undecided, 
irresolute.  With  the  cool  night  air  fanning  his  cheeks 
as  their  car  rolled  southward,  clearer  consciousness 
came  back,  bringing  with  it  firmer  resolve.  She  had 
not  wanted  him  ;  in  all  those  years  there  had  not  come 
from  her  a  single  word.  Now,  on  this  night  of  her 
triumph,  in  the  midst  of  family  rejoicing,  he  had  no 
part.  It  had  all  been  a  mistake,  a  most  unhappy  mis 
take,  yet  he  would  do  now  everything  in  his  power  to 
remedy  it.  His  further  presence  should  not  be  allowed 
to  detract  from  her  happiness,  should  not  continue  to 
embarrass  her.  The  past  between  them  was  dead; 
undoubtedly  she  wished  it  dead.  Very  well,  then,  he 
would  help  her  to  bury  it,  now  and  forever.  Not 
through  any  neglect  on  his  part  should  that  past  ever 
again  rise  up  to  haunt  her  in  the  hour  of  success.  She 
had  discovered  her  ideal,  she  had  attained  to  the 
height  of  her  ambition.  She  should  be  left  to  enjoy 
the  victory  undisturbed.  Within  the  hotel  rotunda, 

[333] 


BETH     N  O  R VE  LL 

under  the  multicolored  lights,  he  halted  Craig,  hurry 
ing  forward  to  a  conference  with  the  steward. 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry,  old  man,"  he  explained  apolo 
getically,  "but  the  fact  is,  I  do  not  feel  well  enough  to 
remain  down  here  to  the  spread.  Nothing  serious, 
you  know  —  indigestion  or  something  like  that.  I  '11 
run  up  to  my  room  and  lie  down  for  a  while  ;  if  I  feel 
better  I  may  wander  in  later." 

Craig  looked  concerned. 

"Thought  you  were  mighty  white  about  the  gills  all 
the  evening,  Ned  —  the  lobster  salad,  likely.  I  hate 
letting  you  go,  awfully ;  upon  my  word,  I  do.  I 
wanted  Lizzie  to  meet  you ;  she 's  always  heard  me 
singing  your  praises,  and  your  not  being  there  will 
prove  quite  a  disappointment  to  her.  But  Lord!  if 
you're  sick,  why,  of  course,  there's  no  help  for  it. 
Come  down  later,  if  you  can,  and  I  '11  run  up  there  as 
soon  as  I  can  break  away  from  the  bunch.  Sure  you 
don't  need  the  house  physician?" 

"  Perfectly  sure ;  all  I  require  is  rest  and  a  bit  of 
sleep.  Been  working  too  hard,  and  am  dead  tired." 

He  sank  down  within  the  great  arm-chair  in  the  silence 
of  his  own  room,  not  even  taking  trouble  to  turn  on 
the  lights ;  mechanically  lit  a  cigar,  and  sat  staring  out 
of  the  window.  Before  him  the  black,  threatening 
cloud-shadows  hung  over  the  dark  water  of  the  lake ; 
far  below  resounded  the  ceaseless  clatter  of  hoofs  along 
the  fashionable  avenue.  He  neither  saw  nor  heard. 
Over  and  over  again  he  reviewed  the  past,  bringing 
back  to  memory  each  word  and  glance  which  had  ever 
passed  between  them.  He  was  again  with  the 

[334] 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    LETTER 

"  Heart  of  the  World  "  strollers,  he  was  struggling  with 
Burke  in  the  depths  of  the  mine,  he  was  passing  through 
that  day  and  night  of  misfortune  on  the  ridge  overlook 
ing  Echo  Cany  on,  he  was  riding  for  life — her  life — across 
the  trackless  desert.  It  all  came  before  him  in  unnatural 
vividness,  seemingly  as  though  each  separate  scene  had 
been  painted  across  that  black  sky  without.  Then  he 
perceived  the  great  playhouse  he  had  just  left,  the  glo 
rious  glitter  of  lights,  the  reverberation  of  applause,  the 
cheering  mob  of  men  and  women,  and  her — her  bowing 
and  smiling  at  them,  her  dark  eyes  dancing  with  happi 
ness  and  ignoring  him  utterly,  her  whole  body  trembling 
to  the  intoxication  of  success".  Oh,  it  was  all  over;  even 
if  there  had  been  no  gulf  of  death  between  them,  it  was 
all  over.  She  had  deliberately  chosen  to  forget ;  under 
the  inspiration  of  her  art  she  had  forgotten.  It  had 
usurped  her  thought,  her  ambition,  her  every  energy. 
She  had  won  her  way  through  the  throng,  yet  the  very 
struggle  of  such  winning  had  sufficed  to  crowd  him  out 
from  memory,  had  left  the  past  as  barren  as  was  the  desert 
amid  the  dreariness  of  which  they  had  parted.  He  set 
his  teeth  hard,  striking  his  clenched  fist  against  the 
cushioned  arm  of  the  chair.  Then  he  sat  silent,  his 
cigar  extinguished.  Once  he  glanced  at  his  watch,  but 
already  the  hour  was  too  late  for  any  hope  of  catching 
the  west-bound  train,  and  he  dropped  it  back  in  his 
pocket,  and  sat  motionless.  Suddenly  some  one 
rapped  upon  the  outside  door.  It  would  be  Craig, 
probably,  and  he  called  out  a  regretful  "  Come  in." 
A  bell-boy  stood  there,  his  buttoned-up  figure  silhou 
etted  against  the  lights  in  the  hall. 

[335] 


BETH  NORVELL 

"  Lady  in  Parlor  D  asked  me  to  hand  you  this,  sir," 
the  boy  said. 

He  accepted  the  slight  bit  of  paper,  scarcely  com 
prehending  what  it  could  all  mean,  turned  on  an 
electric  bulb  over  the  dresser,  and  looked  at  it.  A 
single  line  of  delicate  writing  confronted  him,  so  faint 
that  he  was  compelled  to  bend  closer  to  decipher: 
"  If  you  are  waiting  my  word,  I  send  it" 

He  caught  at  the  dresser-top  as  though  some  one  had 
struck  him,  staring  down  at  the  card  in  his  hand,  and 
then  around  the  silent  room,  his  breath  grown  rapid. 
At  first  the  words  were  almost  meaningless ;  then  the 
blood  came  surging  up  into  his  face,  and  he  walked 
toward  the  door.  There  he  paused,  his  hand  already 
upon  the  knob.  What  use  ?  What  use  ?  Why  should 
he  seek  her,  even  although  she  bade  him  come  ?  She 
might  no  longer  care,  but  he  did  ;  to  her  such  a  meet 
ing  might  be  only  a  mere  incident,  an  experience  to  be 
lightly  talked  over,  but  to  him  such  an  interview  could 
only  prove  continual  torture.  But  no  !  The  thought 
wronged  her ;  such  an  action  would  not  be  possible  to 
Beth  Norvell.  If  she  despatched  this  message  it  had 
been  done  honestly,  done  graciously.  He  would  show 
himself  a  craven  if  he  failed  to  face  whatever  awaited 
him  below.  With  tightly  compressed  lips,  he  closed 
the  door,  and  walked  to  the  elevator. 

She  stood  waiting  him  alone,  slightly  within  the  par 
lor  door,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  red  lips  parted  in  an 
attempt  to  smile.  With  a  single  glance  he  saw  her  as 
of  old,  supremely  happy,  her  dark  eyes  clear,  her  slen 
der  form  swaying  slightly  toward  him  as  if  in  welcome. 

[336] 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    LETTER 

For  an  instant  their  gaze  met,  his  full  of  uncertainty, 
hers  of  confidence ;  then  she  stretched  out  to  him  her 
two  ungloved  hands. 

"You  gave  me  a  terrible  scare  to-night,"  she  said, 
endeavoring  to  speak  lightly,  "and  then,  to  make 
matters  worse,  you  ran  away.  It  was  not  like  you  to 
do  that." 

"  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  mar  the  further  hap 
piness  of  your  night,"  he  explained,  feeling  the  words 
choke  in  his  throat  as  he  uttered  them.  "  My  being 
present  at  the  Opera  House  was  all  a  mistake ;  I  did 
not  dream  it  was  you  until  too  late.  But  the  supper 
was  another  thing." 

She  looked  intently  at  him,  her  expression  clearly 
denoting  surprise. 

"  I  really  cannot  believe  you  to  be  as  indifferent  as 
you  strive  to  appear,"  she  said  at  last,  her  breath 
quickening.  "  One  does  not  forget  entirely  in  three 
short  years,  and  I  —  I  caught  that  one  glimpse  of 
you  in  the  box.  It  was  that  —  that  look  upon  your 
face  which  gave  me  courage  to  send  my  card  to  your 
room."  She  paused,  dropping  her  eyes  to  the  carpet, 
her  fingers  nervously  playing  with  the  trimming  of  her 
waist.  "It  may,  perhaps,  sound  strange,  yet  in  spite 
of  my  exhibit  of  feeling  at  first  discovering  your  pres 
ence,  I  had  faith  all  day  that  you  would  come." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  mean  that  you  wished  me  there?" 

"Quite  possible;  only  it  would  have  been  ever  so 
much  better  had  I  known  before.  It  actually  seemed 
when  I  saw  your  face  to-night  as  if  God  had  brought 
you  —  it  was  like  a  miracle.  Do  you  know  why? 

[337] 


BETH  NORVELL 

Because,  for  the  first  time  in  three  years,  I  can  welcome 
you  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Beth,  Beth,"  utterly  forgetting  everything  but  the 
mystery  of  her  words,  his  gray  eyes  darkening  from 
eagerness,  "  what  is  it  you  mean  ?  For  God's  sake 
tell  me!  These  years  have  been  centuries;  through 
them  all  I  have  been  waiting  your  word." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  reaching  out  one 
hand  to  grasp  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"It — it  could  not  be  spoken,"  she  said,  her  voice 
faltering.  "  Not  until  to-day  was  it  possible  for  me 
to  break  the  silence." 

"  And  now  —  to-day  ?  " 

She  smiled  suddenly  up  at  him,  her  eyes  filled  with 
promise. 

"  God  has  been  good,"  she  whispered,  drawing  from 
within  the  lace  of  her  waist  a  crumpled  envelope,— 
"  oh,  so  good,  even  when  I  doubted  Him.  See,  I 
have  kept  this  hidden  there  every  moment  since  it  first 
came,  even  on  the  stage  in  my  changes  of  costume.  I 
dared  not  part  with  it  for  a  single  instant  —  it  was  far 
too  precious."  She  sank  back  upon  the  chair,  holding 
out  toward  him  the  paper.  "  Read  that  yourself,  if 
my  tears  have  not  made  the  lines  illegible." 

He  took  it  from  her,  his  hands  trembling,  and  drew 
forth  the  enclosure,  a  single  sheet  of  rough  yellow 
paper.  Once  he  paused,  glancing  toward  where  she  sat, 
her  face  buried  in  her  arms  across  the  chair-back.  Then 
he  smoothed  out  the  wrinkles,  and  read  slowly,  study 
ing  over  each  pencil-written,  ill-spelled  word,  every 
crease  and  stain  leaving  an  impression  upon  his  brain : 

[338] 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    LETTER 

"SAN  JUAN,  COL.,  DEC.  12,    1904. 

"  DEER  Miss :  I  see  your  name  agin  in  a  Denver  paper 
what  Bill  brought  out  frum  town  ternight,  an  read  thar  that 
you  wus  goin  ter  play  a  piece  in  Chicago.  I  aint  seen  yer 
name  in  ther  papers  afore  fer  a  long  time.  So  I  thot  I  'd 
write  yer  a  line,  cause  Bill  thinks  yer  never  got  it  straight 
bout  ther  way  BiffFarnham  died.  He  ses  thet  you  an  Mister 
Winston  hes  got  ther  whol  affair  all  mixed  up,  an  that  maybe 
it 's  a  keepin  ther  two  of  yer  sorter  sore  on  each  other.  Now, 
I  dont  wanter  butt  in  none  in  yer  affairs,  an  then  agin 
it  aint  overly  plisent  fer  me  to  make  a  clean  breast  ov  it  this 
way  on  paper.  Not  that  I  'm  afeard,  er  nothin,  only  it  dont 
just  look  nice.  No  more  do  I  want  enything  whut  I  did  ter 
be  makin  you  fokes  a  heep  o  trouble.  That  aint  my  style. 
I  reckon  I  must  a  bin  plum  crazy  whin  I  did  it,  fer  I  wus 
mighty  nigh  that  fer  six  months  after  —  et  least  Bill  ses  so. 
But  it  wus  me  all  right  whut  killed  Farnham.  It  wan't  no 
murder  es  I  see  it,  tho  I  was  huntin  him  all  right,  fer  he  saw 
me  furst,  an  hed  his  gun  out,  when  I  let  drive.  Enyhow,  he 
got  whut  wus  comin  ter  him,  an  I  aint  got  no  regrets.  We're 
a  doin  all  right  out  yere  now,  me  an  Bill  —  ther  claim  is  payin 
big,  but  I  never  aint  got  over  thinkin  bout  Mercedes.  I  shore 
loved  her,  an  I  do  yit.  You  was  awful  good  to  her,  an  I 
reckon  she  'd  sorter  want  me  to  tell  you  jist  how  it  wus. 
Hopin  this  will  clar  up  som  ov  them  troubles  between  you  an 
Mister  Winston,  I  am  Yours  with  respects, 

"  WILLIAM  BROWN." 

Winston  stood  there  in  silence,  yet  holding  the 
paper  in  his  hand.  Almost  timidly  she  glanced  up  at 
him  across  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"And  you  have  never  suspected  who  I  was  until 
to-night?" 

[339] 


BETH    NORVELL 

"  No,  never ;  I  had  always  thought  of  Bob's  sister  as 
a  mere  child." 

She  arose  to  her  feet,  taking  a  single  step  toward 
him. 

"  I  can  only  ask  you  to  forgive  me,"  she  pleaded 
anxiously,  her  eyes  uplifted.  "  That  is  all  I  can  ask. 
I  ought  to  be  ashamed,  I  am  ashamed,  that  I  could 
ever  have  believed  it  possible  for  you  to  commit  such 
a  deed.  It  seems  incredible  now  that  I  have  so 
believed.  Yet  how  could  I  escape  such  conviction  ? 
I  heard  the  voices,  the  shot,  and  then  a  man  rushed 
past  me  through  the  darkness.  Some  rash  impulse,  a 
desire  to  aid,  sent  me  hastily  forward.  Scarcely  had  I 
bent  over  the  dead  body,  when  some  one  came  toward 
me  from  the  very  direction  in  which  that  man  had  fled. 
I  supposed  he  was  coming  back  to  make  sure  of  his 
work,  and  —  and  —  it  was  you.  Oh,  I  did  not  want 
to  believe,  but  I  had  to  believe.  You  acted  so 
strangely  toward  me,  I  accepted  that  as  a  sign  of  guilt; 
it  was  a  horror  unspeakable." 

"You  thought  —  you  actually  thought  I  did  that?" 
he  asked,  hardly  trusting  his  own  ears. 

"What  else  could  I  think?  What  else  could  I 
think?" 

This  new  conception  stunned  him,  left  him  staring 
at  her,  utterly  unable  to  control  his  speech.  Should 
he  tell  her?  Should  he  confess  his  own  equally  mad 
mistake?  the  reason  why  all  these  years  had  passed 
without  his  seeking  her?  It  would  be  useless;  it 
would  only  add  to  her  pain,  her  sense  of  wounded 
pride.  Silence  now  would  be  mercy. 

[340] 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    LETTER 

"Beth,"  he  said,  controlling  his  voice  with  an 
effort,  "let  us  think  of  all  this  as  passed  away  forever. 
Let  us  not  talk  about  it,  let  us  not  think  about  it  any 
more.  You  have  reached  the  height  which  you  set 
out  to  gain ;  or,  possibly  you  have  not  yet  fully  attained 
to  your  ideal,  yet  you  have  travelled  far  toward  it.  Has 
it  satisfied?  Has  it  filled  the  void  in  your  life  ?  " 

She  returned  his  questioning  look  frankly. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  once  said  in  a  cabin  out 
in  Colorado  ? " 

"  I  think  so ;  yet,  to  avoid  mistake,  repeat  it  now." 

"I  told  you  1  would  give  up  gladly  all  ambition,  all 
dreams  of  worldly  success,  just  to  be  alone  with  the 
man  I  loved,  and  bring  him  happiness.  To-night,  as 
then,  that  is  all  I  wish — everything." 

A  moment  neither  moved  nor  spoke. 

"  Beth,"  he  whispered,  as  though  half  afraid  even 
yet  to  put  the  question,  "am  I  all  you  wish — every 
thing  ? " 

"Yes,  everything — only  you  must  wait,  Ned.  I 
belong  still  to  the  public,  and  must  play  out  my 
engagement.  After  that  it  shall  be  home,  and  you." 

They  stood  there  facing  each  other,  the  soft  light 
from  the  shaded  globes  overhead  sparkling  in  her  dark 
hair,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  smiling  at  him 
through  a  mist  of  tears.  Unresisted,  he  drew  her  to  him. 

THE  END 


[341] 


PUBLISHED  BY 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 


RANDALL    PARRISH'S     FAMOUS    STORY    OF 
DAKOTA  IN  THE  '70s 

BOB  HAMPTON 
OF  PLACER 

The  surpassing  power  of  this  new  novel  marks  it  not  only  as 
the  best  by  Mr.  Parrish,  but  as,  probably,  the  strongest  in 
human  interest  of  the  season.  Seldom  has  any  novel  exceeded 
it  in  virile  strength  and  the  quality  that  arouses  the  emotions. 
— Grand  Rapids  Herald. 

Randall  Parrish's  latest  novel  is  by  far  his  best  and  comes 
as  an  invigorating  relief  from  the  flood  of  wild  and  woolly 
Western  clap-trap  that  followed  the  success  of  Wister's 
"Virginian."  "Bob  Hampton  of  Placer"  and  all  the  men 
and  women  who  figure  in  the  pages  of  Mr.  Parrish's  latest 
story  are  creatures  of  flesh  and  blood.  They  are  of  the  West 
Western,  and  the  presentment  of  their  surroundings  is  true 
and  leal  to  this  biggest,  bravest,  breeziest,  and  best  region  of 
America.  The  incidents  of  the  narrative  are  stirring  without 
improbability,  thrilling  without  the  blood-raw  preposterousness 
of  so  many  "Western  tales."  The  epical  event  of  the  book 
is  Custer's  last  fight,  but  the  scenes,  personages,  and  events 
surrounding  it  are  naturally  and  convincingly  tributary  to  the 
novel. — Helena  Independent. 

The  story  is  told  with  immense  interest  and  is  one  that  no 
reader  will  willingly  lay  down  after  beginning  it.  Parrish  is 
well  known  to  the  reading  public.  The  novel  proves  that  he 
has  not  lost  any  of  his  artistic  genius  or  strength  of  conception 
and  skilful  working  out  of  detail.  It  is  a  wonderfully  attrac 
tive  story. — Salt  Lake  Tribune. 

Illustrated  in  Color  by  Arthur  I.  Keller 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &    CO.,    Publishers 


EIGHT  EDITIONS    IN   FOUR   MONTHS 

OF 


American  literature  owes  much  to  Mr.  Parrish,  and  he  is 
increasing  the  debt  still  more  and  more  with  every  new  volume. 
There  is  no  other  among  the  noteworthy  writers  of  the  day 
just  like  him,  and  very  few  in  the  notable  army  who  have  pre 
ceded  him. 

If  the  long-sought  and  oft-prophesied  American  novel  were  to 
be  selected  from  the  fiction  that  has  already  been  written  on  this 
side  of  the  big  water,  it  would  not  be  strange  if  the  mark  of 
pure  gold  were  to  fall  upon  one  of  these  four  remarkable  stories 
that  Randall  Parrish  has  placed  upon  the  world's  shelves. 

There  will  be  those  in  any  number  who  will  contend  that 
this  last  series  of  Western  pictures  is  his  best,  and  certain  it  is 
that  he  has  never  done  better  descriptive  work  than  in  his 
dramatic  story  of  the  Little  Big  Horn,  the  tragedy  which  ended 
the  promising  career  of  General  Custer  and  gave  a  new  defini 
tion  to  the  word  "  horror." — Detroit  Times. 

"Bob  Hampton  of  Placer  "  is  another  thrilling  American 
novel  by  Randall  Parrish.  Like  its  predecessors,  it  commands 
attention  from  the  start  and  holds  the  interest  absorbed  by  its 
continuous  action.  Furthermore  it  is  a  notably  well-written 
story,  exhibiting  the  author's  rare  sense  of  dramatic  values. 
Praise  must  be  given  to  the  typographical  excellence  of  Ihe 
novel  and  its  mechanical  workmanship  in  general. — Philadel 
phia  Press. 

Illustrated  in  Color  by  Arthur  I.  Keller 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &   CO.,    Publishers 


A    SPLENDID    NEW    STORY    OF    SOUTH    DAKOTA 

LANGFORD  OF  THE 
THREE  BARS 

BY  KATE  AND  VIRGIL  D.  BOYLES 

A  tale  of  genuine  power  and  sincere  native  sentiment,  stamped  with 
the  hallmark  of  genuine  literature.  This  is  fiction  with  the  right  ring 
in  it — a  somewhat  rare  thing  in  these  days  of  closet  romancers — fiction 
that  grips  the  reader  at  the  outset  and  maintains  its  hold  without  abate 
ment  or  slackening  until  the  last  page  has  been  turned. — Philadelphia 
North  American. 

A  cowboy  story  that  is  head  and  shoulders  above  the  mass  of  its 
fellows  is  "Langford  of  the  Three  Bars."  It  is  supersaturated  with  ad 
venture.  Real  adventure  it  is,  spontaneous  and  likely,  not  made  to 
order  and  thrown  in  by  a  clumsy  literary  artisan.  Such  fresh,  bright, 
exciting  stories  as  "Langford"  inspire  the  hope  that  much  more  open 
air  fiction  may  yet  be  drawn  from  the  soil  of  the  great  plains. —  Cleve 
land  Plain  Dealer. 

Without  a  doubt  this  is  one  of  the  best  Western  novels  which  has 
been  published  in  years,  and  there  have  been  so  very  few  of  them  that 
to  be  numbered  with  the  chosen  ones  is  no  small  distinction.  It  is  a 
realistic,  thrilling  and  extremely  well  written  story  of  the  cattle  country 
in  "rustling"  times. — St.  Paul  Pioneer  Press. 

A  tale  full  of  life  and  action,  and  thrilling  situations,  with  none  of  the 
characters  overdrawn.  Convincing  and  well  knit  together,  the  novel 
should  take  its  place  with  the  best  fiction  founded  on  life  in  the  wild 
and  breezy  west. — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

The  book  abounds  with  the  spirit  of  the  great  plains  and  an  eager 
vitality  throbs  from  its  pages.  It  is  brim  full  of  abundant,  dramatic 
action,  strength  and  color. — Des  Moines  Mail  and  Times. 

"Langford  of  the  Three  Bars"  is  like  a  visit  to  the  bounding  West. 
It  has  the  true  Western  atmosphere. — Detroit  News. 

Four  full  page  Pictures  in  Rich  Colors  by  N.  C.  Wyeth 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &   CO.,    Publishers 


LANGFORDOFTHE 
THREE  BARS 

BY  KATE  AND  VIRGIL  D.  BOYLES 


The  authors  have  given  us  a  delightful  book,  a  story  full  of  vivid 
action  and  color,  elemental,  honest,  and  straightforward.  There  ought 
to  be  more  such  stories  as  "  Langford  of  the  Three  Bars,"  first  of  all 
because  it  is  wholesome  and  inspiring,  and  secondly,  because  it  is  his 
torical  and  paints  for  us  the  pictures  of  the  everyday  life  that  de 
veloped  whatever  we  have,  as  a  nation,  of  virility  and  courage. — San 
Francisco  A  rgonaut. 

There  are  some  stories  which,  for  no  definable  reason,  seem 
touched  with  the  spirit  of  youth  and  vitality.  Such  a  tale  is  "  Langford 
of  the  Three  Bars,"  a  vigorous,  well-shaped  story  of  "cattle  rustling" 
and  conflict  on  the  wide,  lawless  plains  of  South  Dakota.  It  is  a  stir 
ring  story,  full  of  strength  and  color,  quick  with  abundant,  dramatic 
action,  cheered  by  a  happy  ending.  The  writers  know  well  the  time 
and  country  in  which  they  have  placed  their  vital  events  and  actors, 
and  they  know,  too,  how  to  ring  the  changes  on  love  and  adventure  and 
the  tonic  outdoor  spirit  in  simple  but  most  effective  way. — Chicago 
Record- Herald. 

This  is  one  of  the  best  western  romances  that  has  been  published  for 
a  long  time.  The  great  cattle  grazing  region  of  South  Dakota  provides 
the  theatre  for  a  drama  of  stirring  and  compelling  interest.  The  story 
is  admirably  told,  and  it  is  a  difficult  feat  to  lay  the  book  down  before 
consummation. —  Washington  Star. 

A  very  wholesome  and  readable  story.  The  plot  is  well  conceived, 
the  technique  is  good,  and  characters  are  skilfully  limned,  and  alto 
gether  the  book  seems  worthy  to  take  high  rank  among  novels  of  its 
class.  The  illustrations  in  color,  painted  by  N.  C.  Wyeth,  are  worthy 
of  special  comment.  They  are  splendidly  done,  and  the  process  of  re 
production  is  such  as  to  make  the  prints  real  works  of  art. —  Toledo 
Times-Bee. 

This  realistic  presentation  of  life  on  the  ranch  holds  intensely  inter 
esting  scenes,  dramatic  situations  and  exciting  moments,  arousing  and 
keeping  the  reader's  complete  attention  to  the  end. — Grand  Rapids 
Herald. 

A  stirring  story  of  the  South  Dakota  ranch  life  in  the  days  of  cattle 
thieves.  Seldom  has  a  book  contained  so  many  characters  that  stand 
for  plains  life  as  it  actually  was  in  those  days,  or  so  many  that  have  a 
faculty  of  appealing  to  the  reader. — Fort  Worth  Telegram. 

Four  full  page  Pictures  in  Rich  Colors  by  N.  C.  Wyeth 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &    CO.,    Publishers 


A   CAPITAL    ROMANCE    OF   THE  WEST  AND    THE 
BUILDING  OF  THE    CENTRAL  PACIFIC 

THE  IRON  WAY 

BY  SARAH  PRATT  CARR 


The  "Iron  Way"  is  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad.  The 
completion  of  this  great  enterprise  in  1867  provides  the  ma 
terial  for  a  story  full  of  action  and  the  power  of  big  events. 
The  author  has  made  skilful  use  of  some  of  the  giant 
promoters  of  that  day — Leland  Stanford,  Collis  P.  Hunting- 
ton,  Mark  Hopkins  and  Charles  Crocker,  upon  whose  initia 
tive  the  railroad  was  planned  and  built.  But  the  railroad  sets 
the  scene  for  a  tale  of  thrilling  interest.  Alfred  Vincent,  son 
of  a  cultured  Eastern  family,  throws  in  his  lot  with  the  new 
road  as  confidential  agent,  standing  guard  over  its  interests 
against  the  wire-cutters,  wreckers,  and  men  of  the  most  des 
perate  character.  Stella  Anthony  is  the  charming  woman  for 
whom  two  men  risk  all,  and  the  bestowal  of  whose  love  upon 
one  of  them  crowns  a  most  fascinating  romance.  The  second 
ary  characters  are  admirably  drawn,  particularly  Uncle  Billy, 
who  smothers  love  in  life- long  friendship,  and  Sally  B.,  a 
dominant  and  true  hearted  woman — these  two  establish  them 
selves  firmly  with  the  reader  from  the  very  start. 

With  Four  Illustrations  and  Cover  Design 
by  J.  W.   Norton 

A.    C.    McCLURG   &    CO.,    Publishers 


FOUR    EDITIONS    IN    TWO    MONTHS 

THE  IRON  WAY 

BY  SARAH  PRATT  CARR 

The  reader  who  craves  exciting  incidents,  hairbreadth  escapes, 
glimpses  of  wild  life  in  a  particularly  wild  and  rugged  time,  will  cer 
tainly  find  plenty  of  such  material  in  this  romance  of  the  West.  The 
pictures  illustrate  the  text  in  a  fitting  manner,  and  portray  several 
thrilling  scenes. — New  York  Times  Saturday  Review. 

"The  Iron  Way"  presents  a  faithful  picture  of  the  stirring  times 
which  it  describes,  of  the  trials,  disappointments,  failures  and  successes 
of  the  "big  four"  and  of  the  plot  and  counter  plot  in  the  struggle  to 
make  California  an  integral  part  of  the  Union  in  fact  as  well  as  in 
name.  The  love  episodes  and  romantic  incidents  are  interwoven  in 
the  story  with  a  skill  that  shows  the  author  to  be  a  real  master  of 
literary  style. — Seattle  Post  Intelligencer. 

There  is  a  very  winning  romance  running  through  this,  if  indeed  that 
romance  is  not  the  main  feature  of  the  book  and  the  railroad  story  the 
framework  upon  which  the  romance  is  woven.  The  story  is  full  of 
action,  and  is  altogether  a  delightful  novel,  and  one  of  hearty  fine 
imagination. — Salt  Lake  Tribune. 

The  author  has  chosen  an  unhackneyed  field  and  subject  for  her 
book.  It  is  thoroughly  likeable  and  wholesome,  the  characters  real, 
and  the  style  breezy.  To  those  who  remember  the  times  and  types  de 
picted  the  cheerily  ending  narrative  will  carry  a  welcome  message.  It 
will  be  welcome  no  less  to  those  fond  of  simple,  vigorous  romance. — 
Chicago  Record  Herald. 

This  is  a  lively,  hustling  story,  full  of  action,  fitting  the  times,  and 
blending  fact  and  fiction  dextrously.  The  chronicle  is  interesting  and 
illumined  by  the  proper  infusion  of  sentiment. — Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  very  good  story  of  the  days  when  the  Central  Pacific  had  just  been 
completed.  The  author  skilfully  handles  the  various  threads  of  her 
story,  and  builds  around  her  characters  typical  human  nature  of  other 
varieties  produced  by  the  time  and  the  place  which  are  the  setting  for 
her  book. — Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

A  worthy  addition  to  our  knowledge  of  the  West  and  to  the  growing 
literature  of  high  American  endeavor. — Chicago  Daily  News. 

With  Four  Illustrations  and  Cover  Design  by 
J.  W.  Norton 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &   CO.,    Publishers 


SIX    EDITIONS  — MORE    THAN 
23,000  COPIES  IN  A  YEAR 

FOR  THE  SOUL  OF 
RAFAEL 

BY  MARAH   ELLIS  RYAN 


When  a  dashing,  pleasure-loving  Spaniard  has  a  marriage  "arranged" 
for  him  with  a  beautiful  saint-like  young  woman  he  has  never  seen,  it 
is  hardly  reasonable  to  expect  any  happiness  from  such  a  union.  A 
man  like  Rafael  would  scarcely  be  in  sympathy  with  the  amount  of 
time  his  wife  spent  at  the  confessional.  His  friends  would  scarcely  be 
her  friends.  And  in  a  case  like  this  there  is  always  some  one  to  catch 
the  wandering  eye  of  the  indifferent  husband. 

It  is  not  possible  in  a  word  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  the  glow 
ing,  picturesque  quality  of  this  romance  of  Old  California,  in  which  the 
characters  are  of  the  fine  aristocratic  Spanish  type.  There  is  some 
tragedy  in  the  book,  of  course,  but  as  a  story  it  is  wonderfully  moving, 
and  of  absorbing  interest  from  the  very  beginning. 

"No  one  can  read  the  story,"  remarks  the  Milwaukee  Sentinel, 
"without  a  better  conception  of  the  character  of  the  Mexicans  who 
clustered  about  the  mission  churches  in  California.  The  contrasts  have 
been  handled  by  the  author  with  telling  strength.  The  characters  are 
real  and  living.  The  pathos  is  like  the  twilight  before  the  moon  comes 
up  to  bathe  all  in  its  beauty.  The  golden  hope  flooded  Raquel's  life 
with  a  beauty  none  knew  but  herself.  She  stood  upon  a  plane  above 
them  all,  drawing  her  sustenance  from  a  hidden  source.  She  had 
found  happiness,  and  through  bitter  sorrow  had  at  last  reached  the 
highest  sphere  of  blessedness,  where  she  awaited  calmly  the  reward 
she  knew  would  be  hers,  at  least,  when  all  the  mists  had  cleared  away." 

There  rarely  has  been  issued  a  romance  upon  which  so  much  atten 
tion  and  care  have  been  expended  to  make  it  a  consistent  and  beaiitiful 
book.  From  every  standpoint — from  the  symmetrically  printed  page, 
with  its  symbolic  borders  in  tint,  and  the  end  leaf  patterns  and  em 
blematical  chapter  initials,  to  the  nineteen  full-page  illustrations  in 
sepia  from  a  series  of  remarkable  photographs  (made  expressly  for  if) — 
the  book  is  presented  in  an  artistic  and  satisfying  make-up. 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &    CO.,    Publishers 


THIRTY  THOUSAND  COPIES  PRINTED  OF 

BEN  BLAIR 

THE  STORY  OF  A  PLAINSMAN 
BY  WILL  LILLIBRIDGE 


"Ben  Blair  "is  probably  one  of  the  best  novels  we  shall  get  this 
year.  .  .  .  We  prefer  "Ben  Blair"  to  "The  Virginian"  on  account 
of  the  author's  determined  persistence  in  avoiding  effeminacy.  .  .  . 
"Ben  Blair"  is  more  than  a  frontier  romance;  it  is  a  character  novel 
worked  out  with  all  the  singleness  of  purpose  necessary  to  make  an 
impressive  story,  whatever  the  environment. — Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

As  truly  picturesque  and  vivid  a  conception  of  breezy  cowboy  West 
ern  life  as  has  come  to  hand  in  many  a  day  is  found  between  the  covers 
of  "Ben  Blair."  .  .  .  There  is  more  real  force  and  swing  to  the  book 
as  a  whole,  than  experience  has  led  us  to  expect  in  half  a  dozen  modern 
stories.  Scotty  and  Rankin  and  Ben  are  three  gigantic  conceptions 
who  leave  an  indelible  impression  of  stalwart  manhood. — New  York 
American. 

Mr.  Lillibridge  has  the  knack  of  etching  a  scene  on  the  memory  with 
a  few  clear-cut  lines.  He  also  has  caught  the  atmosphere  of  the 
prairies,  and  conveys  something  of  the  elemental  force  of  character 
that  their  wide  horizons  seem  to  foster. — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

There  is  no  denying  the  strength  and  fascination  of  some  of  the 
descriptive  work.  There  is  a  man-hunt  of  extraordinary  terror  and 
vividness,  and  other  striking  descriptions  of  life  as  it  exists  on  the 
border.  Mr.  Lillibridge  has  a  style,  he  has  something  to  say,  and  he  is 
in  earnest  about  his  work. — Chicago  Daily  Tribune. 

The  story  is  one  of  real  life  and  red  blood,  and  the  reader  who  is  able 
to  lay  it  aside  for  even  an  hour  without  regret,  before  the  end  is  reached, 
fairly  passeth  our  understanding. — Detroit  Times. 

We  are  inclined  to  say  that  "Ben  Blair"  is  superior  to  "The  Vir 
ginian." — Baltimore  Sun. 

Frontispiece  in  Color  by  Maynard  Dixon 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &   CO.,    Publishers 


THE  MAKE-UP  OF  THE  BOOK  IS  AS  UNIQUE  AND 
EFFECTIVE  AS  ANY  OF  THIS  SEASON 

INDIAN 
LOVE  LETTERS 

BY  MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN 

The  letters  are  touching  in  the  extreme,  full  of  rich  symbolism,  hope 
less  yearning,  poetry  and,  moreover,  seem  to  reveal  and  emphasize  the 
essential  racial  differences,  the  insurmountable  barriers  between  the 
red  man  and  the  white.  They  are  given  unique  and  elaborate  setting 
in  the  cover  design,  the  end  papers  and  chapter  headings  which  show 
significant  designs  and  Indian  symbols,  done  most  artistically. — • 
Chicago  Daily  News. 

Each  of  these  letters  fs  a  prose  poem  that  contains  the  spirit  of  re 
nunciation  and  the  poignancy  of  despair.  They  draw  to  themselves 
the  sympathy  of  the  reader,  for  they  seem  to  be  written  in  the  very 
heart's  blood  of  their  author. — Seattle  Post-Intelligencer.  , 

Like  the  recollection  of  music  once  heard,  like  the  haunting  memory 
of  a  perfume,  is  the  charm  of  the  letters  in  their  revelation  of  noble, 
pure,  unselfish,  disinterested  love,  the  outpouring  of  a  nature  alive  to 
the  beauty  of  the  seen  and  in  accord  with  the  harmonies  of  the  unseen. 
The  poetic  imagery  of  the  Indian  is  beautifully  expressed,  and  by  sug 
gestion  one  is  made  conscious  of  a  touchingly  pathetic  story.  The 
whole  is  written  with  an  art  as  consummate  as  its  feeling  is  genuine. — 
Brooklyn  Times. 

The  little  book  is  poignantly  interesting  and  charmingly  poetic.  It  is 
well  worth  possessing,  for,  in  addition  to  its  intrinsic  interest,  it  is  very 
attractively  decorated  in  the  Indian  sentiment  by  Ralph  Fletcher  Sey 
mour. — New  York  Evening  Mail. 

These  letters  are  exquisite  poems,  laden  with  passion  and  intensity 
of  thought,  and  through  all  of  them  is  the  spirit  of  resignation  to  a  fate 
that  arouses  sympathy. — Philadelphia  Record. 

A  book  which  will  appeal  straight  at  the  heart  and  the  intelligence  of 
those  who  love  good  writing  and  are  fond  of  their  fellow  men. — Cleve 
land  Leader. 

The  sadness  and  renunciation  that  are  carried  in  these  letters  from 
the  first  are  very  touching,  and  as  they  progress  one  is  impressed  with 
the  perfect  knowledge  the  author  possesses  of  the  Indian  myths,  beliefs 
and  supernatural  ideas,  and  of  her  skill  in  adapting  them  to  her  use. 
The  work  is  one  of  unique  interest;  it  is  a  perfect  gem  of  intellectual 
endeavor,  coming  from  a  well  supplied  fount. — Salt  Lake  Tribune. 

Designed  and  Decorated  by  Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &   CO.,    Publishers 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  927  476     2 


